iLIBRiRY OF CONGRESS. 

\ UNITED 8TATES0F AMKIMCA 



PASCO, 



A CUBAN TALE. 



AND OTHEK POEMS. 



WITH AN ESSAY ON MUSIC APPENDED. 



Rf RUTLAND MANNERS. 



Here pause my gothie lyre a little time : 
The leisure hour is all that thou canst claim. 
— Beattie. 




|)nnteb at t\)t Hbersibe |}ress, Qlambtibge. 

(NEU^ YORK: IIURD AND HOUGHTON.) 
1877. 



V 



.5^ 







COPTRIGHT, 1877, 

By R. RUTLAND MANNERS. 



r 




To 

HER LADYSHIP, 

THE COUNTESS OF DUFFERIN, 

THE FOLLOWING UNWORTHY COLLECTION 

IS, 

BY PERMISSION, 

INSCRIBED, IN ALL DUTY AND RESPECT, 
BY THE AUTHOR. 





INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 



In venturing to obtrude the following contents upon 
public notice, I feel that I have no right to expect that 
any allowance will be made on account of the adverse 
circumstances under which the)^ have been produced ; 
nor does there appear to be any injustice in the re- 
fusal to admit such a "plea in view of the fact stated by 
Dr. Johnson,^ that "a book to the reader is neither 
better nor worse for the circumstances under which 
its author has written it." Inasmuch, however, as it 
is equally true, and upon the same eminent authority, 
that " to justly estimate any man's work it should be 
compared with his own particular advantages," per- 
haps the indulgence which is not here sought as a right 
may be extended as a privilege. If so, I would beg 



" Preface to Shakspere." 



VI 



INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 



to explain that the lines herein presented have been 
written during the leisure time of evening, which alone 
has been at my command ; other occupation demanding 
the hours of the day. This is stated simply because I 
feel assured that those into whose hands this little 
volume may find its way, will be more lenient in their 
criticisms from a knowledge of the fact. 



New York, June, 1877. 



M. 





CONTENTS. 



♦ 

INTRODUCTORY NOTE v 

PASCO : A Cuban Tale 9 

SPRING: An Idyl 50 

RETROSPECTION: A Romance 57 

MONODY ON THE DEATH OF CHATTERTON . .64 

A DREAM: Sea Pictures 70 

SONNETS. 

Canada 79 

My Mother 80 

Solitude 81 

To-morrow 82 

Music 83 

Licet 84 

Darkness 85 

Meditation 86 

Inri 87 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

Love and Dignity: An Allegory . . . .91 

Music and Memory: An Allegory .... 95 
The Gladiator: From the French . . . .97 

Quand Meme 99 

Address to the Moon 101 

Farewell 104 

Lines written at Arlington, Va., Cemetery . . 106 

To my Bird 108 

Litany — versified 110 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

A Thought 113 

Stanza 114 

Prologue . . 115 

Sunset 118 

A Remembrance 121 

"Sweet Flower" 122 

Love to the Mirror 123 

To * * * * 123 

Love in Absence — Spanish Proverb .... 124 

Lines in an Album, L, II., III. ..... 125 

Lines — "If o'er each worthier birth some proud star 

shines " 126 

In Memoriam 127 

SONGS. 

See, down the Mountain's Shadowy Side . . . 131 
There 's some One with the Brightest Eyes . 132 
Oh, when the Heart is breaking .... 133 

Bright Bird of Spring 134 

I Love to look into thine Eyes ... . . 135 

Hope, what art thou to me? 136 

Barcarolle 137 

FRAGMENTS. 

A Vision — Allegorical, "Love and Wealth" . 141 
The Dakota 147 

ESSAY ON MUSIC 153 



PASCO. 




PASCO: 
A CUBAN TALE. 



Glad roll the waters of the southern sea, 
Circling with blue its coral-girted isles, 
O'er which all-radiant Summer ever smiles. 
Her royalist gifts there scattering bounteously. 

The orange spreads its bright luxuriance there 
O'er sunlit slopes and far along the plain. 
Skirted by palms, which oft appear a-field 
In groups amid the yellow clustering yield, 
And thus, beneath the sunlight, seem, from 'far 
Sprung from the islets of a golden main ! 

And there the sun illumes the bluest sky 

Of all it gilds ; glassed in translucent seas, 

Whose depths it turns with subtle alchemy 

To gold ; their waves lisping soft melodies 

To slumbering shells, low murmuring in their sleep. 

Of sweet content, thus fondled by the deep. 



12 PASCO. 

As clustering trees all blossom-laden rest 

'Mid the rose-haze of summer's sultry day, 

So lie those isles upon the sun-flushed breast 

Of tropic seas where spicy breezes play. 

Soft are those winds with fragrant sweets imbued, 

Culled from the lemon and rich orange blooms ; 

From countless flowers spending their chaste perfumes 

Upon the air — o'erfilled to lassitude. 

Unceasingly amid the island shades 

Pours the glad music of the bright-plumed throng, 

Most joyous heard 'mid the secluded glades 

Of the wild-wood, where they betimes prolong 

Into the silence of the night their song. 

Thus when the moon her softest charms unveils, 
In sylvan streams to bathe her fair, chaste form. 
Along their marge the lute-tongued nightingales 
The evening hours fill with their notes love-warm. 

Entrancing scenes of artless luxury ! 
Where bounteous Nature has profusely shed 
Her rarest gifts, nor deem on earth can be 
Scenes where her beauties are more richly spread. 

Yet, 'mid those scenes, in sullen grandeur rise 
Mountainous steeps, wild-cragged, their forms sear- 
browned, 



PASCO. 13 

"Which boldly reach majestic toward the skies, 
Their towering crests with dark-plumed pines en- 
crowned ! 
Upon their heights the island mountaineer — 
In view the waters of th' encircling sea — 
Makes his abode ; his joy their crags to dare ; 
Nor deems he else an equal luxury, 
Though 'neath his feet unfading shades abound, 
And fruits delicious freight the hidden ground. 

Such beauty theirs — those isles of " Indies' " sea ; 
Such riches theirs as tempt cupidity ! 

IT. 

The morn across the Antillean seas 
Broke softly with a freshening breeze, 
Which o'er the bounding billows swept. 
Till in the island groves it slept, 
Or wandered merrily along 
Amid its shades, which, at its song 
"Waking, their " leafy banners " hung 
Out as it passed, while sweetly sung 
The plumaged throng, in bright array, 
Their anthem to returning day. 
To these and opening woodland flowers, 
To lakelets bright, in verdant bowers 
Embosomed, the glad Zephyr spoke 
Its greetings, and all Nature woke 



14 PASCO. 

To joy ; the sylvan wavelets kissing 
From sleep ; with smiles them dimpling o'er, 
As from their cradled rest enticing, 
To leave them sighing on the shore ! 

III. 

The sun, now risen o'er the verdured trees 

Tuned by the breeze to rustic symphonies, 

Shed o'er Sevilla's lake, — whose waters lie 

Among the hills that overlook the sea, 

Caribbean named, where round the southern coast 

Of Cuba's isle it circles, eastward lost, — 

Its softest rays, yet brightest, till its breast 

Sparkled with brilliants, like some Beauty dressed 

In jewelled splendor, as it rose and fell 

In warm pulsation, softly audible. 

Upon its wooded slopes, here long alone. 

Save for his child, — scarce to his household known, 

In solitude had dwelt and slept — now dead, — 

The Count Zambrana. Many years had fled 

Since first he sought the shades which now waved o'er 

His marble crypt upon the farther shore. 

Whence he had come none knew, none e'er had 

known ; 
Why thus he lived, avoiding e'en his own, 
And none remembered since the earliest day 
He sought those hills one from them spent away, 
Though at each eve this man of mystery 
Had loved to wander by the neighboring sea ; 



PASCO. 15 

And only there was he e'er known to show 
Aught of emotion ; then from some deep woe 
It seemed to rise, which in his heart lay sealed, 
Some wearing secret jealousy concealed. 
Stern was his glance, withal yet kind his eye 
Where pride enthroned maintained a mastery 
O'er those emotions which his heart down-weighed, 
Nor rose unguarded, save when sleep betrayed. 
In life, his thought ne'er wearying did employ 
Itself in studying but his daughter's joy ; 
And wealth possessed, left her naught to desire, 
Save to reclaim from that dark shade her sire, — 
Was it remorse or sorrow which thus moved 
The heart her own so truly, fondly loved. 
But Death — that presence which man's heart sub- 
dues, 
Refusing oft that which alone it sues 
In life's last hour : a moment's strength to bear 
Up from its tomb the sins Pride buries there — 
Had sought Zambraua, and its swift decree 
Forever sealed his life's strange mystery. 
Save that unconscious then, his tongue betrayed 
Accents that told of passion's hand unstayed, 
Named with his wife, as wild emotion pressed 
Its rending billows o'er his troubled breast : 
She whom those lips had never named before 
For years ; a stranger to the child she bore. 
Now years had fled ; to womanhood had grown 
The child, yet had she not been left alone. 



16 PASCO. 

For a not less than mother's love was hers 
In one her guardian from her earliest years. 

IV. 

Upon the woodland lake, smooth gliding o'er 

Its waves, a gondola approached the shore, 

Beneath the oar of swarthy Islander 

Borne gently onward. Long his raven hair 

Fell from beneath a ribboned sombrero. 

About his neck uncovered, and below, 

Across his half bared breast of olive hue, 

Floated before the breeze. His eyes — but who 

Would paint a Criollo and shade his eyes 

Less dark than are his southern starlit skies ! 

A lovely figure in the boat reclined : 

Zambrana's daughter, her sweet form, confined 

In softest folds of chaste illusion, lay 

The paragon of grace and symmetry. 

Beneath a silk o'ershading, on a spread 

Of Persian tapestry. Rested her head 

On her warm hand, round which her wealth of hair, 

Entwined with rosebuds, fell ; and naively there 

Their crimson blossoms clung, and seemed to seek 

To shade the damask softness of her cheek. 

Her eyes were dark — 't would be a mockery 

To try to paint them by a simile, 

As they beneath their silken fringe, half closed. 

In lustrous languor, dreamingly reposed. 



PASCO. 17 

And, as the moon along the summer sky- 
Floats calmly on in silvery drapery 
Of fleecy clouds, — rent by the wind, concealed 
Its beauteous form, yet modestly revealed : 
So her loose garment by the breeze caressed, 
Disclosed the beauteous softness of her breast 
Whose deep pulsations quickened, moved as though 
Love's restless billows tossed the heart below. 

A terraced stair, with marble balustrade. 
Rose from the lake, and thence an avenue, 
'Neath palms o'er-arching, stretched up the hill -side 
To where, crowning its summit, the chateau 
In antique beauty stood. Around the shade 
Of the mimosa and acacia swayed 
In wandering winds, laden with sweets distilled 
From neighboring lemon groves, while clustering there 
Bloomed floral hues unnumbered, and the air, 
Amid the foliage musical, was filled 
With songs of birds. 

Delightful scenes stretched round on every hand, 
Far as the sight the vista could command, 
Of orange groves waving their golden yield 
Where royal magnolias ranged the freighted field, 
And undulating plains, which to the view 
Their stately palms displayed in richest hue, 
While blue beyond rose 'gainst the azure sky 
A mountain range in sullen majesty. 



18 PASCO. 

Stretching far eastward with the boundless Sea, 
The sister tenants of immensity ! 

Near the chateau, 'neath a mimosa's shade, 

Amid the verdure with bright blossoms spread, 

"Where over-arching vines with blooms o'er-run 

Tempered the brightness of a tropic sun, 

Reclined the figure of a youth, though grown 

To manhood's stature. Through the screen o'er- 

thrown, 
Of foliage intertwined, the sunlight crept, 
Bathing his brow (as motionless he sle^Dt), 
O'er which his hair, in indolent unrest, 
Moved in dark clusters, by the wind caressed. 
A flush was warmly glowing on his cheek 
As soft as are the roseate tints that streak 
The summer sky, when, as night's curtains close, 
On twilight's breast, day sinks into repose. 
And there was stamped upon his placid face 
Unbending pride, yet tempered with a grace 
Of true nobility, whose influence 
E'er moulds the face in gentler lineaments. 
Plain were his features, yet enthroned there, 
With stateliness, appeared that nameless air 
Of conscious force, — the reflex of a mind 
"Which still attracts as it commands mankind ; 
The superscription of that power that sways 
The world, the Mind, — that prince of sovereignties ! 



PASCO. 19 

With its great Premier, governing Reason, throned, 

Controlling worlds, yet by no power bound. 

Its consort thought ; the eye its minister ; 

The universe its realm ; the arbiter 

In man of men, who, envious, then behold 

Themselves resistless by its power controlled, 

As in submission, 'neath its master spell, 

They render homage, though their wills rebel ! 



From midnight till the star of morn 
Paled 'neath the saffron veil of dawn, 
Young Pasco, o'er the star-lit wave, 
By many a cape and island cave, 
Full many a league along the shore 
Guided his boat with steady oar. 
From where, within a cliff-bound bay, 
A band of Cuban patriots lay 
Close 'neath a friendly mountain wall 
Which stretched around, impassable. 

There in the fastness of the mountain height. 
Dreading naught else save the betraying night. 
His patriot comrades waited for the day 
When once again their hands should rend away 
Another thong that bound their bleeding land, 
Wrenched from her heart-strings by a tyrant's hand. 



20 PASCO. 

Thou stricken isle ! how long shall Slaiigliter flood 
Thy vales of beauty with the patriots' blood ; 
How long still, struggling, must thou bleed, nor find 
One hand of mercy thy red wounds to bind ? 
Weakest yet braver than the strongest all, 
Must Freedom's fairest child unheeded call, 
Nor to the accents of her anguished cry 
Gain but the echo of their agony ! 

Thou guardian Genius of the patriot brave ! 

Hear thou thy sons — still thine the power to save — 

Who to thee turn, scourged in their native land 

For Freedom's cause by an Aggressor's hand. 

Hear thou thy sons who nobly there defy 

Thy bitterest foe. Freedom's arch-enemy ; 

That chief of despots whose long history reads 

But a record of persecution's deeds. 

Who now oppressing that unhappy clime 

Would there proscribe e'en liberty a crime — 

That gift divine — hereditary right, 

From mankind stolen in oppression's night ! 

Withhold no longer thine avenging sword ; 

Nay, they are free, if thou but speak'st the word, 

That word unsaid, lo, each returning day 

Beholds them pierced afresh by tyranny ! 

Stay in their deadly course the wreaking blade 

And kindling brand, by fell destruction swayed, 

Which o'er that land where all 's so wondrous fair 

Spread blackened desolation and despair, 



PASCO. 21 

Till there where once arose the voice of joy, 
Alone now heard the wail of misery. 

A Nemesis arise, clothed in thy might, 

With justice armed, thy countenance alight 

With righteous vengeance, so shall tyranny 

Before thy face in terror shrink away, 

As to its lair the preying beast of night. 

When o'er the mountain beams the morning light ! 

See, 'mid the verdure of his native glade. 
Attacked by panther, from its ambush strayed, 
The noble stag, just struggling to his feet, 
Defiantly fronts his pursuer's hate. 
Now on his foe impetuously he flies, 
A desperate courage flashing from his eyes ; 
The beast recoils, then with a fierce rebound 
Springs at its victim ; half borne to the ground 
His antlers stout receive his savage foe : 
With cry half pain, half hate, back crouching low, 
Yet once again behold him full at bay, 
Dauntless — 

Till now his panting breaths betray 
His sinking frame, which scarce may long sustain. 
The brave, proud spirit which it bears within. 
See on the jaws of his fierce assailant 
The scarlet life, in savage cunning rent 
From his torn limbs that know no soothing balm 
Save the soft currents of his life-blood warm ; 



22 PASCO. 

Yet not alone his flows : mark the red dye 
His antlers bear, drawn from his enemy ! 

Lo, Cuba thus confronts Hispania still, 
With courage not her fiercest shocks can kill, 
Though stricken bleeding — 

Thou America ! 
Strong as thou art, and pledged to Liberty, 
Thus at thy gates shall stranger masters slave 
Thy sister — loveliest child that Nature gave! 
Thy freedom viewed, she in thy steps would tread, 
Yet stones thou giv'st her where she asks but bread. 
Nay, while her cries now smite thy sluggard ear, 
Cries thou know'st well, for once thine own they were, 
While in her flesh, all quivering, deeper gnaw 
Beneath thine eyes, the chains her enslavers draw. 
Wilt thou, O mother ! — Canst thou close thy heart ? 
Must thus the prestige of thy name depart ? 

And thou Britannia, foremost thou to lead 

When Justice points where Freedom's children bleed. 

Thou, whose bright 'scutcheon — like the orb of day 

In circling course its life diffusing ray — 

Around the earth flashes the grander light 

Of Freedom's Sun — in thy domain how bright, 

With thy brave offspring — " first in peace, in war," 

Let it be thine that glory now to share 

Which crowns the brow of those who strike away 

From patriot sons the chains of tyranny ! 



PASCO. 23 

Young Pasco, boldest of the brave, 

Feared not the wildness of the wave ; 

To him the night wind o'er the sea 

Was but a voice of melody ; 

Its tossing waves — his heart more free — 

Were but a thing of ecstasy 

In which his boundless thoughts but found 

Companions, their impatient sound 

Reflecting in their wild unrest, 

Love's fevered pulses in his breast ; 

And so he welcomed with delight 

These restless spirits of the night. 

Naught did he fear, for to the heart 

That knows the strength love's throbs impart — 

A strength in dangers stronger proving 

That stand betwixt desire and loving — 

There is no peril which can fright 

On surging wave or mountain height, 

While depths of all-sufficing bliss 

Wait its reward in love's embrace ! 

Now, as the dying shades of night 

Fled silently before the light 

Of coming day, his light caique 

Was moored within an island creek. 

Soon reached the scene he knew so well, 

Made sacred by the last farewell 

Which he had kissed from lips that thrilled 

His quickening pulse, though parting chilled 



24 PASCO. 

His anxious heart, — for love e'er dreads 
The cloud a lowering future spreads, 
Though o'er the star of hope may gleam 
With bright albeit uncertain beam, 
A brightness which its spirit fears 
Reflected in a woman's tears. 

Fatigued, now 'neath a shade reclined 
He sought a while of rest to find, 
Before the fast returning day 
Should bring the hour that should repay 
Love's willing toil. Soon kindly sleep 
His eyelids closed, as the calmed deep, 
Just 'neath the hill whereon he lay, 
Low whispering of tranquillity, 
Soothed weariness to sweetest rest, 
While Fancy, for Love, fondly traced, 
In dream-tints, scenes where only joy 
Admitted, bore love company ! 

VI. 

As in the loadstone dwells a vital force 

We may not trace to its mysterious source. 

Which seeks its consort, the responding steel, 

And to it clings, nor why does it reveal, 

Th' effect we mark ; — the Cause ? there dies the light. 

And Wonder pauses on the verge of night, 

While all the cunning of philosophies 

Ends in the simple knowledge that it is ! 



PASCO. 25 

E'en thus in love a nameless power lies, 
Attracting still its own affinities, 
Beneath which force the heart responsive moves 
Love's willing footstep toward the soul it loves : 
The will obeys, — and why it cannot tell, 
Yielding unconscious to that mystic spell, 
In spirit-vision which outwings the sight, 
Pursued by thought in its mysterious flight. 

Thus oft there dawns a seeming consciousness : 

Thought's dimmest taper glimmering faint and 
low, 
When near us throbs the heart our own would 
bless. 

Feeling ere yet its presence we may know : 
Still 't is not felt, — this intercourse of souls ; 

Unknown its workings to the mists of sense, 
And yet the will its magic force controls. 

Which yields, unconscious, to its influence. 

Now, as she wandered 'neath the verdant shades 
Which round her island home luxuriant pressed, 

As from the lake she sought their quiet glades, 
Dreaming of one whose image filled her breast, 

Did Lulu feel this influence which invades 
The realm of thought, with pulses to invest 

Those cords magnetic which two hearts unite : — 

A bond too hallowed for the sensual sight. 



26 PASCO. 

And thus impelled, unconsciously she sought 
The floral shade where Pasco sleeping lay, 

Wondering the while if life could offer aught 
And Pasco gone ; and then in ecstasy 

Transfixed she stood, as quick that saddening thought, 
Darkening her eyes, faded in tears of joy : — 

And oh how bright beamed her all-lustrous eyes 

'Neath that one cloud, flashing love's sympathies. 

" My Pasco ! " — and her voice sank sweetly lower 
From the first pulse of love's temerity, 

Like the lone nightingale's, in twilight's hour, 
As, when disturbed, its warblings die away ; 

And flushed her cheek as, like an arching flower, 
O'er him she leaned in love's expectancy, 

Pressing her heart which throbbed all envious. 

That sleep should claim a moment of its bliss. 

O Love, thou sweet enigma of the soul ! 

Fearless yet fearful ; all-seeing yet how blind ; 
Omniscient yet thou spurn'st the mild control 

Of thy co-dweller Reason. Thus combined. 
Opposing forces blend a marvellous whole 

In thy mysterious framework, that designed 
By Goodness infinite that from its height 
The soul might glimpse th' Elysian fields of light. 

E'en as to thought, to sight dost thou impart 
By thy mysterious force higher virtue 



PASCO. 27 

Supernal, giving all things to the heart, 
By vision there revealed, an aspect new ; 

Clothed in new beauty all ; beauty no art 
Hath cunning to resolve, while that we knew 

Before as happiness, to thee doth seem 

But like the baseless fancies of a dream ! 

Employs which once no joy could e'er impart, 
Or longings waked they could not satisfy, 

'Neath thy sweet force awake within the heart 
Throbbings of all-sufficing ecstasy. 

Heaven's richest dower to man ; of life the part 
Most sacred ; flame of immortality, 

Which here below sheds its celestial light. 

Without which life were lifeless, day were night. 

No longer able to resist. Lulu, 

Beside him seated 'mid the flowers, now 

One long and lingering kiss upon his brow 
Impassionately pressed ; then back she drew. 

As fearing love too bold, while a warm glow 
Suffused her cheek ; then o'er his face anew 

Her own she leaned, as Pasco, waking, seemed 

As if he doubted if he lived or dreamed. 

" Is it a dream ? No, no ! No dream could trace 
Such wondrous beauties as my Lulu grace ; 
No vision paint an image half so fair 
As thou, my idol, — and thou sought me here ? 



28 PASCO. 

Thou Beauty's self!" Then, in one long embrace 
Upon his breast pillowed her lovely face, 
In speechless joy her idoled form he pressed 
Close to the heart that trembled in his breast. 

" Not here, my Pasco — everywhere this heart 
In spirit-flight hath followed where thou wert, 
At morn and eve, and through night's visions still 
The paths exploring of each neighboring hill, 
As hope still promised with each coming day 
Thy watched return — how oft but to betray ; 
And when its voice with less assurance came, 
"While busy memory ceaseless called thy name, 
Love, trembling, sank on sorrow's pallid breast. 
And there, disconsolate, sobbed itself to rest. 
But this no more ; sorrow shall wait on joy, 
"Which must alone the hours now employ 
"With thy return, thou truant wanderer ; 
And first account thee since we parted here. 
Then didst thou promise, by thine own true heart, 
E'en thus : ' But for a little time we part ; ' 
And now the moon, then newborn, hung on high. 
Full thrice hath waned along the summer sky. 
And see ! — Wliy thus in military mien 
Art thou returned ? "Where hath my Pasco been. 
That thus of dress, as for some carnival. 
Absence hath been so strangely prodigal ? 
'T is sure thy humor, — yet thy pensive eye 
Scarce seems to bear such presence company." 



PASCO. 29 

" Then with thine own softly persuasive eyes, 
Shall they but bear love's happier embassies : 
E'en as thou say'st : ' sorrow on joy shall wait,' 
As love would e'er sorrow anticipate 
Which still o'erbodes ; while 't is but joy to weigh 
In love's sweet balance sorrows passed away. 
Called from thy side, still in our country's cause, 
The cause of justice and of freedom's laws 
Employed each hour, — too brief to liberty. 
Yet oh, how lengthened distant far from thee. 
Would 't were not mine to tell thee that in vain 
Our land still struggles 'neath oppression's chain ; 
That still her sons must strive, nor free her soil 
From despots who her of rights despoil. 
Come now the hour when all who love their isle, 
As liating those who still her vales defile, 
Must strike for freedom, nor e'en shrink to bear 
Its standard foremost in the ranks of war." 

" Thus hast thou ever nobly borne thy part, 
Allegiance sharing but with this fond heart, 
My Pasco, till of all thou once possessed — 
All save thy life, in this art thou divest." 
" That gift alone is worthy Freedom's cause, — 
Her sword reproachful till each patriot draws, — 
And if but ventured, on that hazard cast, 
Rich the reward, if that loved cause at last 



30 PASCO. 

Triumphant stands ; and if this may not be, 

Better to die than live for tyranny. 

But of thyself: first would I hear thee tell 

The time's record which thou hast marked so well 

By the chaste moon, which now thy constancy 

Shall ever witness, near or far from thee." 

Then were recalled those hours of bitterness 

When hope beamed low, those tremblings of distress 

Which rend the heart when separation flings 

Dark, chilling shadows from its sombre wings. 

Each day remembered with its train of fears ; 

Patience grown weary, faith subdued to tears, 

Fond expectation at the morning light 

Waking in smiles, in tears ere came the night, 

While morn and night hope watched unwearyingly, 

Soothing the pain of love's despondency. 

Now in the brightness of joy's warmtliful ray 

Dissolved in light, each shadow passed away, 

As 'neath the sun the mists of morning fade 

Which ere the dawn, earth's slumbering beauty shade. 



The hours had sped, — how swiftly do they fly. 
Unmarked by thought in love's sweet company, — 
Till now they led past the meridian height 
In robes of gold-edged fleece the god of light. 
Though marked the hour, yet still did Pasco fear 
To hope and love-expectant to declare 



PASCO. 31 

Honor's last act, for well he knew that this 

Quick must consign sweet joy to bitterness. 

But now, 'neath Time's injunction, in his heart 

The pain that soon — fore'er perhaps, they must part. 

For utterance pressed, as thus again to thought 

Memory recalled his grief, in joy forgot. 

Then as some cloud which 'neath the moon's pure light 

Suffused with brightness, decks the brow of night, 

When swept away by spirit winds, that sigh 

Their weird lamentings through the silent sky, 

To darkness fades, thus borne from its bright sphere 

Into the regions of the nether air, 

Shadowing o'er the watching stars, but now 

Beaming in beauty on their silvery brow. 

So the glad light which shone in Pasco's face, 

Reflected from love's fervent happiness. 

Faded away as now within his breast 

Griefs gathering mists their chilling darkness pressed, 

And spread a shade of anguish o'er his brow 

Which beamed so bright with happiness but now. 

But quick his heart again forbade that this 
Should shadow o'er his star of loveliness. 
As it recalled the cloud which thought had thrown 
Across his face, — yet ere 't was wholly gone, 
Her upturned eyes, then fixed upon his own. 
With love's perception marked that shadow fade. 
Which to her own his troubled heart betrayed. 



32 PASCO. 

Then thus she spoke : " My Pasco, must I trace 

One line of sadness fiilling o'er thy face, 

Nor know the sorrows which thy heart invade. 

And thus the brightness of thine eyes o'ershade ? 

Must love with love share naught but happiness, 

Nor make its own the sorrows that oppress 

The heart which yields the only joy it knows, 

From which the essence of its being flows ? 

Nay, thus to share thy sorrows but shall be 

To add to love a keener ecstasy ; 

Nor deem thy voice one accent e'er can tell 

To pain this bosom — lest it he farewell^ 

For still with thee this heart can know no pain, 

And welcome sorrow when we part again." 

While thus she spoke proud adoration filled 
His throbbing heart, with quickening pulses thrilled, 
As in his eyes rose those all holier fires 
Which pure affection in the breast inspires, 
While thus devotion in her heart displayed 
New springs of goodness ne'er before betrayed. 
From which sweet Faith with gracious hand sup- 
plied 
Entrancing draughts, thus doubly sanctified. 
But when of parting her loved accents spoke. 
From his sweet dream of happiness he woke. 
And in his heart, as falls a funeral knell, 
Broke the dread portence of that word, farewell. 



PASCO. 33 

Across his face anew pain's shadow crept, 
While in his eyes their wonted brightness slept, 
As sorrow-filled they sought the neighboring sea, 
In deep unquiet, as he made reply. 

Then thus he spoke : '• My Lulu, could'st thou see 

Within my heart its weight of agony, 

That from thy side a voice all must obey — 

Liberty's death-cry, summons me away. 

Would love dare hide what honor's act hath done 

From thee e'en still my own, my lovely one. 

That for thy sake no slightest cloud should lower 

To cast one shadow in this longed for hour. 

Whence now I come, beset by tyrant hate. 

Gathered, our brothers for the struggle wait ; 

Wait till our Cuba's foes again shall know 

Not unavenged her children's blood shall flow. 

For though on Freedom treads the Oppressor's heel, 

Crushing it downward, shall the tyrants feel 

For them from Freedom's bleeding wounds shall 

flow 
A poison deadlier than their hate can know. 
Yes, I have dared enlist for liberty 
The life which love consecrated to thee, 
'Neath whose promptings returned to thee, I bear 
My anxious heart, which asks thine own to share 
Its sacrifice, — the strength of love alone 
Love's faltering purpose can sustain, sweet One. 



34 PASCO. 

The midnight passed unknown the shades of fate, 

For thee my heart with longing pulses beat, 

Whose sweet assurance should impart new life 

To brave the perils of th' impending strife. 

Then, though 't was death, for thee, my loveliness, 

Scaling the rocks which wall the mountain pass 

Where lie our band, I sought the neighboring sea, 

Whose friendly billows bore me safe to thee." 

She heard ; yet dared not trust her tongue t' impart 

The cry of sorrow echoing in her heart, 

As motionless she clung to his embrace, — 

Save that along her frame her wild distress 

A tremor sent, the coldness of despair 

Within her heart, which now was chilling there. 

" And it is thus — ?" Then shut within her breast. 

By sorrow prisoned, her sad accents ceased. 

As on his breast she sank, — a drooping flower, 

Voiceless beneath that grief which hath but power 

To feel^ and in its night of woe to "see 

But the dark image of its agony ! 

" Nay let not tears bedim thy lustrous eyes. 

Nor cloud of sorrow o'er thy beauty rise. 

For though night lowers it must pass away. 

And oh, what brightness waits returning day 

Before the sunlight melts along the main 

Its waves must bear me to our band again. 

While hope shall guard love's consecrated shrine, 

Which sacred charge to it must love resign." 



PASCO. 35 

" To hope," she sobbed, " to hope^ whose changeful ray, 

Ever receding, beams but to betray, 

While still with light delusive it illumes 

The mists of sorrow which it ne'er consumes. 

But no " (and now in calmer voice she spoke. 

Though from her breast its anguished pulses broke 

In trembling utterance), "no, our country's need 

Must not unanswered to her children plead ; 

And shall her daughters from that cup once shrink 

Which to its dregs her sons so proudly drink ? 

Go thou, my Pasco, though each hour shall knell 

Its wail of sorrow from this sad farewell. 

And night returning in each breath shall sigh 

The weary reckoning of recurring day 

Till thy return. O God, should this be not ! " — 

And hope shrank, trembling,. from that direful thought, 

As one wild burst of anguish swept her breast, 

And choked its pulses, trembling into rest. 

Amid the flowers he laid her form, and now 

Smoothed the dark tresses from her pallid brow, 

And with warm kisses, as o'er her he kneeled, 

Sought to restore the life which pain congealed. 

And through their channels from her heart to bear 

The chilling currents which were crowding there ! 

A spirit-tenderness sought her sweet face, 

Soothing each line to placid loveliness ; 

A beatific calm, like that in death 

Which still reflects, though ceased fore'er the breath, 



36 PASCO. 

The soul's last, sweetest smile, serenely spread 
O'er th' all but liviug features of the dead. 
Now raised her eyelids, fringed in mourning hue, 
Where tears were trembling, as the early dew 
Trembles in beauty 'neath the paling night, 
Ere well the sun dissolves it into light, 
On him, half wondering, fixed her saddened eyes. 
Where resignation draped love's sympathies, 
Which there were gathered, with her sable shade. 
For hope deejD in the heart's sepulchre laid. 

As in his arms he raised her to his side. 

Around his neck her own were fondly laid. 

While that pure tribute, love's chaste throbbings yield, 

Upon his lips in lingering fear was sealed. 

" Farewell, my Lulu," and his voice betrayed 

The deep emotion which his bosom swayed ; 

" Farewell ; the night must to my comrades prove 

That Pasco's honor 's stronger than his love, 

And shame the fear which stings my thought to view. 

That to his country Pasco is untrue." 



One kiss — another — 

Now alone she stood 
Amid the shades of grief's dread solitude. 
While in her heart, else lifeless, echoed o'er 
Love's anguished accents : " lost for evermore.' 



PASCO. 37 



VII. 

The moon hio^h o'er El Cobre's sombre height 

Dispelled the shades of the unwelcome night, 

Flooding the vale and towering mountain side 

In silvery light. Adown the valley gleamed 

In gentle curves, the river's wandering tide, 

Till gliding 'twixt a chasmed rock it seemed 

To seek repose 'neath the o'ershadowiug height, — 

Whose frowning brow repelled the soft moonlight, — 

As some great serpent winds its weary length 

Into the darkness of the cavern's strength. 

Weird, ominous, like dread Plutonian shades, 

High up the mount, o'er-glooming crag and pass 

Ranged the dark pines, which the bright, starry hosts 

Sentrying the night seemed watching tremulous ! 

No sound disturbed the stillness save the cry 

Of the lone night-bird, calling plaintively, 

With the soft voice, communing with the night. 

Of falling water, white in the moonlight. 

Which from the mountain sought the river's breast. 

And with it mingling, hushed itself to rest. 

Far up the height, along a mountain pass, 

Skirting the brink of measureless abyss. 

Now and anon gleamed, 'gainst the darkened height 

Of rock o'ertowering, the portentous light 

Of glist'ning steel, whose momentary gleams 

Chilled the soft whiteness of the moon's pale beams. 



38 PASCO. 

There on the height repose the patriots sought, 

Slumbering upon their arms, yet wakeful caught 

The voice which told another hour had gone 

That cunning Time from friendly Night had won. 

As in the mount's defile the sentinel 

In cautious utterance said, " Men all is well," 

Then quick again upon the pass he stood, 

Courting its shades, as the calm solitude 

Of vale and pass he watched with jealous care, — 

Ah ! who could dream that death was lurking there ? 



VIII. 

" And dost thou think the rebel watch can sight 
From where thou say'st they hold yon mountain 

height, 
The stream below, where shades its breath half o'er 
Yon darkening cliff? There may the farther shore 
Alone be reached : too deep the river's bed 
Here, where concealed these friendly shades o'er- 

spread, 
To ford its depths : — and well I deem 't is meed 
If men must die, 't is nobler that they bleed ; 
Then if our foes like they of Yara's fight. 
None may be spared who strive for Sj^ain to-night. 
But there we cross, — and thou canst lead us on, 
As thou hast said, and by a path unknown ? " 



PASCO. 39 

" I can, my chief ; within a cave it ends, 

And thence the path through narrow gorge ascends 

To a defile where lie the rebel crew — 

The pass is sure — the rest an hour must show ! " 

" Thou speakest well. Soldiers," turning, he said, — 

The dark battalion there beneath the shade 

Stood motionless, — 

"The enemies of Spain 
Keep yonder height, nor dream ere night shall wane 
The rocks that now their rebel slumbers keep 
Loud shall reecho with their own death-shriek. 
We cross below where yonder rock o'ershades ; 
Look to your arms ; guard well no naked blades 
A warning bear to traitor eyes, for know 
But to their hearts such messengers should go." 
Then to the guide : " Pepillo, lead the way ; 
Now steady — March ! " The column moved away 
Along the stream, and silently it trod 
With measured cadence o'er the yielding sod. 
Soon reached the ford, they halted. " Pepillo, 
Scan well the height — say, canst thou see the foe ? " 
" Look thou, my chief, see'st thou that gleam of 

light ? 
Wait but a moment — now upon the height 
Above the fall ? " 

" Aye, there — but now 't is gone " — 
" Lose not a moment " — 

" Steady, men, as one. 



40. PASCO. 

March ! " 

In they moved. Invaded thus, the stream 
Plaintively muttered, as in some strange dream 
The restless slumberer. 

Soon 't was left to rest, 
And scarce a ripple trembled on its breast. 
Traversed the plain, 'neath the disguising wood 
Soon at the mount the halted column stood. 
Once more was scanned with stealthy eyes the height • 
Once more there glimmered that betraying light. 
As the clear moon illumined the pass, till now 
Veiled by the shadows from the cliff's dark brow. 
Beneath the shade that clothed the mountain side 
The chief held whispered council with the guide ; 
Then at their head, prepared to lead the band, 
He silent waited for the chief's command, 
Who at his side in measured whispers said, 
While all stood motionless as are the dead, 
" Now comrades, softly ; muffle e'en your breath, 
Nor let your footsteps prate of coming death. 
When reached the cave, by fours close column keep ; 
Thence scarce ten paces where the rebels sleep, 
Where once again must traitors' bosoms feel 
The deadly coldness of the Spaniards' steel." 



PASCO. 41 



IX. 

Up-long the orient sky the day, 

In morning robes of sombre gray, 

Crept on apace, as Pasco stood 

In turn to guard the solitude 

Of the defile and vale below, 

Which now the moon — suspended low, 

With shadows thronged, that lengthening loomed 

Along the glen, slow, weirdly. 

Like shades of Titan forms away 

From their tombs summoned, — on earth doomed 

To silence, gathering dark-plumed there. 

As if the dying night to bear 

To its mysterious sepulchre ! 

Beneath the soothing breath of morn 

His comrades, all fatigued and worn 

By hours of wearying, restless sleep. 

Now lay, o'ercome, in slumber deep, — 

Like that which soothes the feeble breast 

When fever's crazing pulse is passed, 

And motionless composure gives. 

With scarce a throb to tell it lives. 

Yet wakeful o'er each weary breast 

One thought guarded the patriots' rest : 

Ah, but for this it had been mad 

To trust to slumber all they had 
3 



42 PASCO. 

In hope, — from Freedom's beckoning star 
Which brightly beamed, though distant far ! 
That thought their land, which to such hearts 
A deathless, double life imparts. 
An hour had passed, and Pasco stept 
Within the pass to where still slept 
His comrades, though their eyelids lay 
Just bound by sleep's sweet mystery. 
He turned the cliff — 

Then forward sprang, 
As on the startled silence rang, 
Rebounding with a hundred shocks 
From peak to peak of towering rocks, 
His carbine's crash — the signal set 
Should night unmask her dread alarms. 
And they surprised, by foes beset, 
No moment find to call to arms — 
For springing from a neighboring height. 
With bayonets glimmering in the light 
Of early dawn, he there beheld 
The hated foe, — as wildly swelled 
Those frenzying pulses in his breast 
Those feel by tyranny oppressed, 
Which know no wilder throb of hate 
Than that when face to face they meet 
Their Despot's slaves, who crav'n would dare 
To bind them with the chains they wear ! 



PASCO. 43 

Quick as his thought his lead as true, 

Struck from the cliff a foeman low ; 

Nor had the signal failed, as told 

A crash of musketry which rolled. 

Reechoing with the thunder's might 

From where the patriots held the height, 

'Neath which above the crash arose 

The death-shriek of a score of foes, 

Which from the patriots brought a cry 

Of stern, defiant mockery. 

Then quick, in fierce reply, out-rang. 

As Pasco 'midst his comrades sprang, 

A volley from the Spaniard band. 

Now closing fast on every hand. 

And 'neath its storm of iron hail 

Full many a noble patriot fell, 

Employing still, ere hushed by death. 

The accents of his latest breath 

In Freedom's name, as to her foes 

His shout of proud defiance rose. 

As rush the waves' impetuous might 

Against the cliflT's opposing height. 

Their foam-locks streaming in the storm. 

Each like some fierce, demoniac form, 

On sweeping with resistless force 

The strength which seeks to stay their course, 

Till backward hurled in turn they lie 

Low quivering in their parent sea, 



44 PASCO. 

Again to rise — and yet again ; 

As oft' flung backward to the main, 

Yet shivering as they fiercely rush 

The tottering height they may not crush ! 

So now, with bayonets set, and hair 

Back floating on the trembling air. 

No time for aught save steel now left, 

Forward the island patriots swept, 

Led on, — if aught the brave e'er lead, 

By Pasco waving at their head 

Their country's flag, full proud to give 

Their lives, that its loved cause might live. 

Fired by the madly coursing blood 

Which swelled each pulse, a frenzying flood. 

Upon the hireling foe they dashed 

Undaunted, though out-belching flashed, 

Full in their course, a withering breath 

Of flame, red-tongued, which seethed with death. 

Mute as the dead, nor stopped, nor stayed, 

With fixed eyes and jaws close laid ; 

Each springing where a comrade fell. 

There summoned by his last death yell. 

Breathing that atmosphere of hell ! 

Onward they swept like wave on rock. 

Till now, with all resistless shock. 

Closing upon the foe, they rushed — 

Beneath that shock recoiling, crushed 

Down — down, as many a bosom writhed 

Beneath the freezing steel there sheathed ; 



PASCO. 45 

Yet lingered not, but quick once more 
The thirsty metal wreaked in gore, 
As with insatiate greed it leaped. 
Still dripping scarlet, doubly steeped. 
From breast to breast, deep curdling there 
The currents stagnant 'neath despair. 
Till cleft, the arm which urged it fell 
Low quivering in its purple rill ! 

High swelled the frightful din of war, 
The wild death-shriek ; the shivering jar 
Of splintering steel ; the stifled groan, 
Half choked ere breathed ; the fitful moan 
From life's low pulse ; the sabres' shock 
Which rose, down swept to fiercely lock ; 
Nor loosed their hold till rent apart, 
Then plunged revengeful in each heart. 
As if, imbued with very life, 
Conscious they shared their master's strife ! 
Now backward forced, scarce half remain, 
But step by step — then yet again 
Fierce dashing on the staggered foe, 
Each laid another Spaniard low. 
As sinews straining, hand to hand. 
The few still left of that brave band — 
Pale as the dead ; each forehead set 
With beads of cold, congealed sweat ; 



46 PASCO. 

While from their breasts down-trickling rolled 
The scarlet gouts, or stream that told 
The murderous sabres' mission there, 
Red-gleaming on the troubled air — 
Sprang at a foe, defiant still. 
In hate which death alone could kill. 
Ah ! who that awful shock may tell, 
When waves of human anger swell 
In fierce contention ; battling where 
Meet livid hate and grim despair ; 
Who paint that hour of frenzied strife 
When passion spares not — as^s not life ; 
Nor deems its warmest, softest breath 
As sweet as the cold gasp of death 
Forced from the heart where still the steel 
It presses with a savage zeal ! 

Beset as one of wolves the prey, 
Full twenty sabres kept at bay. 
Back forced, contending foot by foot ; 
Red-stained from many a streaming cut, 
There Pasco, foremost in the fray. 
Battled the foe defiantly ! 
Above his head the flag he held, 
One arm but free its folds to shield, 
Which wielded with resistless might 
His sabre, — busiest in the fight. 



PASCO. 47 

Struck from his hands the colors lay. 

Forward he dashed : the foe gave way, 

Save one more bold who dared contest 

His way, and sought from him to wrest 

The prize regained, but all in vain — 

One more was numbered with the slain ! 

Then quick again he waved it o'er, 

Its folds now steeped in crimson gore, 

As up his height he proudly drew, 

And fearless scoffed the hated foe. 

But the fast ebbing scarlet tide 

Down coursing from his breast and side, 

Had sapped his life, and his proud cry 

Broke in a gasp of agony ! 

Then on their victim doomed they pressed — 

Back staggering, till by deep abyss. 

From which up-rose a doleful roar. 

Like that from waves which beat the .shore, 

Far distant heard, now Pasco stood 

Defiant still — still unsubdued, 

While round him, eager for his life, 

His foes fast closed. The torrent's strife, 

Deep down the gorge, he heard, and knew 

It swept a thousand feet below. 

Nor aught between where hope could trace 

For Daring's foot a refuge place ! 

Then the first fear his bosom knew 

Cast o'er his face a pallid hue, 



48 PASCO. 

As there now mingling, curdled stood 

Out-starting drops of sweat and blood. 

One glance quick sought the foe-kept pass ; 

Quick one the yawning precipice, 

Then with a shout of proud disdain, 

A challenge to the arms of Spain ! 

He turned and down the canon leaped, 

Still grasped the flag so bravely kept ; 

So nobly borne in life, 't was meet 

In death 't should be his winding-sheet. 

X. 

The struggle o'er, in death's embrace 

Each patriot soldier, face to face 

There with his foe, sank down to rest, 

Undrawn the steel from each still breast. 

The sunbeams there that morning played 

On many a shattered sabre blade, 

Still grasped — with strength which, yieldlessly, 

Surviving life, seemed to defy 

E'en death — by those who, now laid low 

Fore'er, there but an hour ago 

Opposed them in the deadly strife, 

Refusing, as they spared not life ! 

Still now the scene, which but before 

Reechoed with fierce battle's roar ; 

And mingling there together flowed 

The Patriots' and the Spaniards' blood. 



PASCO. 49 



No sign of life was seen save where 
The vulture soaring high in air, 
Amid the sky's ethereal blue, 
Looked down upon the scene below. 
As they had fall'n so there they lay 
Till time should hide them in decay ; 
Nor lived one of that band to tell 
How Cuba's valiant children fell ! 





SPRING. 



AN IDYL. 



" Nature, exerting an unwearying power, 

Forms, opens, and gives scent to every flower ; 
Spreads the fresh verdure of the fields and leads 

The dancing Naiads through the dewy meads." — CowpiR. 



Hail vernal goddess with thy floral train ! 

Nor from thy praises can my Muse refrain, 

As thou, approaching with thy bright-clad throng, 

Awak'st the earth to merriment and song. 

With loudest praise 't would welcome thee again 

As thy swift forces drive back o'er the main 

"With shafts of sunlight, from the blighted earth, 

The ice-shod powers of the frozen North ! 

It would thy course o'er hill and mead pursue, 

As all thou deck'st with robes of richest hue, 

And strew'st with flowers whose countless chalice 

blooms 
Upon the air exhale their sweet perfumes. 



SPRING. 51 

Beneath bright skies, fresh-azured from thy hand, 
Which smiling bend t' embrace the virgin land, 
Adorned by thee, now kindly mother Earth 
Invites a-field her children. Health and Mirth, 
Laughter and Joy respond exultantly. 
And join thy train with gaysome Jollity, 
While on glad wing, upon thy course attend 
The plumaged choir brought from the summer-land. 

Close in thy steps, by sportive Frolic led, 
The gleeful cortege gambol o'er the mead. 
While songs of gladness fill the scene around, 
Which hill and dale harmoniously resound, 
Borne by the swift-winged Zephyrs through the air, 
Till Joy's full voice reechoes everywhere ! 

II. 
All beauteous Spring ! thou darling of the spheres. 
Before whose smile shamed Winter disappears ; 
His face conceals yet lingers to survey 
The gladd'ning prospects which thou dost display. 
What are thy charms let Nature's self declare 
To those who doubting to her courts repair, 
Where scenes delightful stretch on every hand, 
When thou with beauty spreadst the smiling land. 
Thy glory — not the pageantry of kings. 
My Muse adoring all enraptured sings ; 
Not wealth's vain pomp, which partial Fate bestows 
Upon the few to mock the many's woes — 



52 SPRING. 

Sinking its slaves in luxuries that blind 
Till man becomes unfaithful to mankind. 
Not thus with thee : with bounty prodigal, 
Impartially thou dost dispense to all, 
Around the peasant in his lowly cot, 
Strewing thy gifts where jDrinces are forgot, 
Nor circumscribed 'mong all earth's kind appears 
The meanest being but thy riches shares ! 

And thus thy hands e'en o'er the " unknown " dead, 
Richest of flowers wih lavish kindness spread, 
Whose blossoms laden with sweetest perfume. 
Attest thy memory of the silent tomb. 
There where the cherished of our hearts repose 
When reached that bourne where life's tired footsteps 

close 
Beneath o'er-bending shades they brightly bloom, 
Tinting the gloomy shadows of the tomb. 
By thee from earth, 'neath winter's blight there laid. 
Raised to new life — fit emblems of the dead, 
While in their midst hope-crowned immortals wave — 
Telling of life that lies beyond the grave ! 
There, like sweet guardian angels they appear, 
Pouring rich incense on the hallowed air, 
And spirit-voiced, in language love may know. 
Commune with us of those who sleep below. 
While their pure symbols to sad memory give 
The sweet assurance that they ever live. 



SPRING. 53 

But still the glories of thy work I sing, 
O ever beauteous, ever friendly Spring ! 
Amid thy scenes delighted still I stray, 
And all thy charms with fondest joy survey. 

O'er hill and dale behold the forests bare. 

The foremost subject of thy generous care, 

Outward to thee stretching their naked arms, 

Impatient for the robes and floral charms 

Thou bring'st them — their shivering limbs long bare 

To hostile winter's rough and frigid air — 

With verdue clad, they stand magnificent : 

Of thy great work the grandest monument ! 

III. 

As the fresh Morn, pluming her wings of light, 
Suffused with beauty takes her joyous flight 
From the blue arch that holds the orient sky, 
Which her bright wings with roseate tints supply : 
When the first beams of the approaching day 
With aureate splendor gild earth, sky, and sea, — 
That tranquil hour which Contemplation loves, 
'When Nature from her dewy slumber moves, — 
How sweet to wander o'er the smiling fields. 
And breathe the fragrance Nature's garden yields. 
As, one by one, the waking songsters raise 
From hedge and branch their grateful matin lays. 
With tuneful brooks and music-whispering trees. 
Greeting the morn with sweetest symphonies. 



54 SPRING. 

Now crowning all in the delightful scene, 
The sun with gold floods earth's imperial green, 
When on the view come forth in glorious birth 
Unnumbered flowers decking their mother earth, 
And field and forest, clad in radiant light 
Stand forth all beauteous — rapturing the sight, 
As wakened Nature in glad concert sings, 
By warblers led, who with applauding wings, 
Softly accordant, swell the praiseful hymn 
Which heavenward rises, incensed by perfume ! 

High 'mid the blue the lark pours his glad song, 

And hurrying by the swallow skims along, 

While the swift lap-wing as she upward springs. 

Flashes the sunbeams from her lightning wings. 

The faithful redbreast, first of all the year, 

Sings to its mate in numbers softly clear. 

And gives good-morrow to the whistling thrush. 

Who sends her greeting from a neighboring bush. 

Along the meads brooks babble as they run. 

O'er pebbles iridescent 'neath the sun, 

With smiles for every flower and every blade 

Which their glad course attend through wood and glade, 

Along their marge the clustering cresses grow 

Fringing th6 banks, where new-born violets blow. 

Whence thick a-field, gilding the velvet mead, 

The regal king-cups their gold livery spread. 

While everywhere o'er field and woodland sway 

In balmy breezes the sweet flowers of May. 



SPKING. 55 

Upon some mount that overlooks the mead, 

Reclined, the ^dew commanding wood and glade, 

Whence to the wood the freshly verdured ground 

In graceful undulations spreads around. 

How rajDturous on each lovely scene to dwell 

And, yielding to sweet Meditation's spell, 

To contemjDlate Nature's stupendous scheme, 

Wondrous creation of a Power Supreme ! 

On every hand some lesson man may learn, 

In every flower some sacred truth discern, 

In beauty shown, fresh from the source of all 

Given to man by wisdom bountiful. 

View 'mid sharp thorns the rose her beauty wears, 

E'en as the thorn the sweetest blossoms bears ; 

Mark the meek violet and the giant tree. 

Share His regard, each in required degree. 

All eloquent, His high munificence 

Proclaim, and show impartial Providence ! 

Thou God of Life, all-wise, all-bountiful ! 

Eternal One ! as Thou art source of all 

The riches which the ladened Seasons bear 

To fill the Earth with beauty everywhere. 

The power — the glory which my grateful theme 

Would celebrate unto Thy Sacred Name 

Alone belong, as the revolving Spheres 

With countless tongues, along the rolling years. 

Ceaseless proclaim ! Still ever be it mine 

To swell the praises of Thy Power divine ; 



56 SPRING. 

To know Thee ever as Thou dost reveal 
Thyself in Nature, where " Invisible " 
Doth name Thee not, Almighty One ! for there 
In love and power configured Thou dost appear ! 





RETROSPECTION. 



A ROMANCE. 



Once more by the old window 

With the fragrant eglantine, 
As of old its sweetness breathing, 

Now o'ergrown with colunibine. 
Three years this June we parted 

At this very sunset time : 
I scarce can realize that since 

I 've been in many a clime, 
So natural the dear old scene. 

For though the years since gone 
Have shown me many beauteous scenes. 

This held my heart alone. 
And that 's the old-time Ahenlied so loved. 

Which now you play. 
Whose voice, like some sweet spirit, 

Through the past has followed me 

4 



58 RETROSPECTION. 

In all my wanderings, and when most alone 

'T was sure to come, 
And fill me with deep longings 

For the then far distant home. 
Its sad, sweet strain recalls to me 

The chant of vesper bells 
Once heard upon the stillness 

From a Cloister's wooded hills, 
As close along the Spanish coast 

One summer's eve we bore. 
When all was silent save the waves 

Heard on the neighboring shore. 
Now heard once more, here at your side, 

Its ne'er forgotten strain 
Awakes sweet recollections. 

Intermingling joy and pain — 
Throbbings of joy that sweetly thrill, 

By busy Memory brought, 
Then sadly tremble into rest. 

Struck by the chill of thought. 
As fast on recollection comes 

Each well remembered scene. 
Which now — sweet pictures of the past ! — 

But show what might have been. 
And these alone remain to me 

Of all that happy time. 
In the heart's darkened chamber hung. 

Draped in memoriam. 



RETROSPECTION. 59 

There might have been no shadows, — 

If love may dare surmise 
From the old light which timidly 

Has crept into yom' eyes ; 
The same that kindled in my heart 

The fire still warming there, 
Though, like watch-lamps in sepulchres, 

It burns in lifeless air, 
Pride-damped beneath those words which passed 

Your lips unthinkingly 
That fatal day, since which I 've been 

A wanderer on the sea. 

You surely loved me. May, but then, 

Ere wealth was mine — the prize 
I sought to gain the greater, — 

You feared the sacrifice, 
For you could not renounce for me 

What I could not supply : 
That luxury which you enjoyed 

And could not well deny 
Yourself. For this I blame you not ; 

Man has no right to claim 
Such sacrifice from women. 

Though they make them all the same ; 
And thouo^h now fortune has removed 

That barrier aside. 
What matters it, since I have lost 

The only wealth I pride. 



60 RETROSPECTION. 

No, not for that I blame you, 

But that when the charm dissolved, 
Ere it had well been woven, 

That your will again involved 
My love. Ah, you remember it, 

For though you answer not 
That tear now trembling on your cheek 

Shows that the springs of thought 
Have been disturbed by memory, 

And thus o'erflowing rise, — 
And what a lovely channel 

Have they chosen in your eyes. 
But take my arm and let us stroll 

Along the old-time way. 
This may be the last meeting 

We may know for many a day, 
For I go from here to-morrow, 

I can scarcely tell you where, 
I do not know which way myself — 

In truth I little care, 
But I dare not trust my heart to see 

Another hold its shrine. 
Which love, denying every claim, 

E'en now would not resign, 
And I would not between you come, — 

You now are his, and so 
'T is better for forgetfulness, — for «//, 
That I should go. 



EETROSPECTION. 61 

This month you marry him ? — 

Of all the brightest of the year, 
Which must with each summer's return 

Its shade of sadness bear 
Hereafter, for 't will wake the love 

I now must bury in 
My heart, here where it first was born : 

Would that it had not been, — 
For better far that ne'er had bloomed 

The flower affection gave, 
Than to have blossomed but to deck, 

As now, affection's grave. 

It was beside this gate I stood, 

Three summers now ago. 
And heard you play that melody. 

Which since I 've cherished so, — 
The day I met you — then my love 

Woke to its sweet refrain, 
And its harmony with silver chords 

Wove round my heart a chain, 
Which though 't is rent asunder 

Recollection now displays, 
Its scattered links, which still reflect 

The scenes of happier days ; 
And with it came an image. 

Then enshrined within my heart. 
Where it must rest until the grave 

Shall claim it as its part. 



62 RETROSPECTION. 

But May, farewell : I '11 leave you now. 

We 've parted often here, 
And this will make it easier 

For both of us to bear — 
Or shall I see you to the porch ? — 

It may be wiser so, 
For your hand is trembling, — though perhaps 

'T is better finished now. 
And so good-bye ; the agony 

Which now my heart endures, 
I trust in all the years to come 

May never once be yours. 

How like lone-sorrowing spirits. 

Sigh the trees that shade the dead. 
Here in the quaint, old church-yard, 

In summer's last tints clad, 
Where — five years passed, once more returned, 

I look out on the sea. 
From the cedared hill-side where she sleeps 

Who was so dear to me. 
The waves break sadly as I 've heard 

Them break in many a clime — 
Like memories which unceasing fall 

Along the shores of Time, — 
And the droning bee hums idly by 

In the sultry August noon, 



RETROSPECTION. 63 

Lingering to sijD from weary flowers 

Which 'neath the still heat swoon. 
White-winged a solitary ship, 

Far out upon the sea, 
Reflects the noon-day sunlight, 

Soon o'erclouded^ and to me 
This seems a fitting image 

Of the lot I bear this day : 
Alone on life's broad ocean, 

And the sunlight passed away, 
And o'er its havenless expanse 

My bark of life must bear, 
O'ershadowed by those memories 

Which must ever darken there. 

Thus hope's delusive star how oft 

In sorrow's night declines, 
And to dark disappointment's shades 

Our happiness consigns ; 
Yet can the image which awoke 

That hope ne'er fade away — 
Embalmed in the heart's sepulchre. 

From " feeling's dull decay." 




MONODY 



ON THE DEATH OF CHATTERTON. 

" That marvellous boy that perished in his pride." 

Wordsworth. 



Inspire, Muse, the sadd'ning theme I raise 
To one who loved thy presence, — sang thy praise 
In sweetest voice of all thy minstrel choir 
From the first hour his fingers swept the lyre 
Received from thee, — its dulcet strings suj^plied 
From silver in that fire purified 
Which in the temple of thy sacred hill, 
Though now but smouldering, warms thy altar still. 
Inspire my theme : a theme adorned to grace 
The sweetest song, the noblest minstrel's lays, 
To one whose lyre, so rich its numbers came, 
Shed a new glory on thy sacred name. 
A heaven-born spirit which from its bright sphere 
Wandering to earth, lingered a little here 
To sing the songs which it had known before 
With kindred spirits on th' Elysian shore, — 



MONODY ON THE DEATH OF CHATTERTON. Qo 

Earth's tongue in their celestial harmonies 
Echoing here the music of the skies ! 

Sweet bard ! how bright thy sun of promise rose, 

Yet oh, what shadows gathered toward the close, 

And ere it reached the height of life's noon-day 

Fore'er in darkness quenched its radiancy. 

How bright that sun, behold where jDassed its light 

A ray of glory illumines death's night, 

Yielding a beam immortal to that fire 

Which on Fame's height lights Genius' sacred pyre. 

As lesser spheres a symmetry do show 

As truly perfect as the greater, so 

The narrowed circle of thy life not less 

Perfection showed for its littleness. 

Wherein, like the planet with its belt of light. 

Thy star of Genius blazed along the height 

Of Fame, and meteor-like, though soon 't was gone. 

Gave forth a glory there before unknown. 

Of all mankind the Muse did e'er endow 

'T was thine alone mature in youth to know. 

" The gift divine," wherein thou didst display — 

An inspiration but revealed in thee, 

With genius, knowledge ; knowledge e'en earth's Seers 

Amazed beheld — to all the work of years ! ^ 

1 " In our estimate of him — Chatterton — age cannot be taken into ac- 
count ; he never seems to have been young, his intellect was born fully ma- 
tured." — Encic. 



6Q MONODY ON THE DEATH OF CHATTERTON. 

Amid the quiet of primeval woods, 

Where the sweet voices of its solitudes 

Contentment breathed, the brook, the meek-faced 

flower, 
The grateful songster, and, in night's still hour, 
The stars were thy sweet loves, still sought by thee 
With more than fondest lover's constancy. 
Drawn to their chasteness by that force that gives 
To love to seek its own correlatives. 
With the eternal hills : the great, deep sea 
Familiar didst thou commune ; they to thee 
Were but as loved companions. With dread voice 
The Tempest, robed in night, earth, sea, and skies 
Stirring to strife — as through the trembling air, 
Hurling its bolts it swept, its course the glare 
Of the fierce lightnings 'luming, — was to thee 
A sight which gave thy soul sujDremacy 
Of joy, as with the Storm-king's awful form 
Attendant rode thy spirit on the storm ! 

Thy faithful heart, — e'en as the clinging vine 
Struck by the worm, around its loved did twine 
Its richest offerings, yielding sweetest breath 
E'en while below cankered the worm of death. 
Thy love its rich warm soil ; its only air 
Draughts heavy 'neath the cold mists of despair ; 
Its only light, hope's distant, dying ray, 
A spark expiring in eternal day ! 



MONODY ON THE DEATH OF CHATTERTON. 67 

Relentless fate, inexplicable doom ! 

Which thus consigned thy genius to the tomb, 

And swept thy hopes ; thy promise richly fair 

Into the grave to sleep forever there, 

Nor let thee know in life's resigning breath 

The kindred voice that soothes the pain of death. 

Then in thy mind bright scenes forever past, 

Upon thy soul distracting shadows cast, 

To make thy agony but deeper grow, 

Till thou hadst supped the very dregs of woe, 

While — as the lightning's momentary flight 

Illumes the clouds, encumbering the night, 

And breaks the darkness of the midnight sky 

But to increase its black intensity, — 

Memories of home within thy hapless breast 

Flashed through despair's thick cloud that round thee 

pressed. 
Which in their brightness served but to illume 
And show how dark the shadows of the tomb. 
And, passed away, in thy distracted mind, 
Left a dread darkness doubly black behind. 

Insatiate Pride ! beneath thy direful sway, 
Thou scourge of earth, thou subtle votary 
Of Death ! of Genius all thou mayst o'ercome, 
How oft hath sought the silence of the tomb. 
Youth, Beauty, Worth, earth's mightiest thy prey ; 
O'erthrown by thee see Nations in decay. 



68 MONODY OF THE DEATH OF CHATTERTON. 

Of which thou 'st left, — of Genius, Nations all, 
But monuments to show how great their fall. 
Sei'iient-like coiled within that hapless breast. 
Implacable ! 'T was thou his life oppressed ; 
With lying tongue on to destruction, stilled 
The voice of reason, thou his steps beguiled, 
Then, e'en when most thou promised, did betray 
To death the victim of thy perfidy. 
And thou, "World ! in thy cold selfishness, 
Witnessed the victim fall, yet to distress, 
Borne e'en that thou mightst hidden riches know, 
Brought not relief, nay, dealt the final blow 
Which all of genius death hath power to bind, 
To the dark precincts of the tomb consigned. 

Is it for this the Muse her riches gives ; 

Is it for this that patient Genius strives 

Earth's hidden things of beauty to reveal 

From secret places gleaned with tireless zeal, — 

To live the drudge of penury and care ; 

The dupe of hope ; the victim of despair ; 

The world's cold incredulity to brave ; 

To sink forgotten to a timeless grave, 

That those may share a wealth which else must lie 

Buried in Nature's sealed infinity, 

Who while they scruple not the fruits t' enjoy, 

Ungrateful coldly pass the laborer by. 



MONODY ON THE DEATH OF CHATTERTON. 69 

May shame smite thee, selfishness ! when on 
The tomb that holds the dust of Chatterton 
Thou look'st. Thou Pride and Envy, should ye too 
There stray, may ye shame's deepest blushes know, 
While humbled ye within your hearts confess, 
Else dumb, how less ye are than littleness ! 





A DREAM: 



SEA PICTURES. 



One summer's clay, beside the murmuring sea, 

Stretched on tlie beach, I slept, and dreamed I saw 

A noble ship, which, out upon the deep. 

Moved proudly o'er the waters toward the east. 

Calm as a mountain lake the ocean spread 

Beneath the brightness of a noon-day sun, 

Yet did it seem as if the sultry air 

Of summer's heated hour upon its breast 

Oppressive lay, and in its mighty heart, 

Deep down, disturbed its slumbering forces — stirred 

To restless throbbings, as its bosom swelled 

In slow pulsation, and then sank away 

In strange disquietude. Encircling, arched 

Sublimely o'er the azure vault of heaven. 

Upon whose royal height enthroned sat 

The god of day, in dazzling glory robed. 



A DREAM. 71 

O'er the still depths the ship majestic moved, 
As sportively she scattered with her prow, 
About her path, — all glittering in the sun, 
Unnumbered brilliants of unnumbered hues, 
Which she did gather from the emerald deep. 
While from her rolled upon the drowsy air 
A long, dark line of fume, which sought the haze 
Of roseate tint, far in the glimmering distance. 
UiDon her decks the " toilers of the sea," 
Sun-browned in service, each his duty sought. 
While in the rigging some the useless sail 
With busy fingers folded to the yards, 
All merry-hearted singing as they wrought. 
Beneath an awning shading from the sun 
Reclined the ocean voyagers, and there 
Upon the air all merrily arose 
The careless laugh, the voice of happiness. 
And busy tongues of little ones at play. 
Beauty and Youth with faces bright, illumined 
With love and hope, and Age with its sweet smile 
In happiest intercourse assembled were. 
Others apart from those thus grouped about 
Sought to beguile in quicker pace away, 
The lingering hours of the hot summer's day 
With tales of Fancy's painting ; some o'ercome 
By its soporous breath in slumber lay, 
While here and there one o'er the bulwarks leaned 
In listless dreamings, gazing o'er the wave. 



72 A DREAM. 

Aside were two : one Beauty's prototype 
Set in a frame of fairest loveliness ; 
The other Beauty's proud defender — Youth, 
From Nature's sturdier, bolder model, man. 
As silvery clouds in fleecy softness veil 
The chasteness of the virgin summer moon. 
Her white attire, in sweet abandon, draped 
Her lovely form — in nameless grace composed, 
As she, reclined beside him whom she loved, 
Gave ear attent, as he read to her thought ; 
Read of some sorrow, as expression told, 
Moulding her face to sweet solicitude — 
Of holy sympathy, throned in the heart, 
The superscription. So her lustrous eyes, — 
Liquidly brilliant as the glist'ning dew 
Upon the new-blown, trembling violet, — 
Pearled in warm tears, did each emotion glass. 
Which that sad tale awoke within her heart. 
Perchance it traced love's fair, young life betrayed, 
Blighted by dire deceit, — that worm which gnaws. 
With venomed fang, the heart whose warmth it gains, 
Lurked in love's flower, by falseness planted there. 
But this was passed, and like the sun's fresh glow 
Of heat and light when April showers are o'er. 
With a soft brightness beamed her tear-damped eyes, 
Resting on him who, ceased, in their sweet depths 
Poured from his own love's warm responsive rays. 



A DREAM. 73 

The scene was changed : upon a rock-bound coast 
I stood, darkness had gathered over all. 
'Gamst the dark sea high loomed the walling cliffs 
Amid the starlit air, their towering fronts 
Stern frowning, om'nous, warders of the deep, 
Robed in the sombre livery of Night. 
About their caverned base lamentingly. 
The troubled waters tossed, 'neath the weird wind. 
Which to the night distressfully complained. 
In wild and fitful voice. Higher it rose 
And 'neath it soon high swelled and fiercely lashed 
The surge in angry clamor 'gainst the cliffs. 
While black impenetrable clouds rolled o'er. 
Piled mass on mass, high 'mid the thickening air. 
And quickly curtained with their darkened folds 
The ebon vault of heaven, an hour before 
Whence countless stars looked down upon the sea. 
Far distant, from its cloud-built battlement. 
Rending night's pall, the wakened Lightning pierced 
With gleaming shaft the bosom of the deep ! 
Responsive to the Storm-king's awful voice. 
Deep-swelling from afar ; then opened fast 
The many portals of the walling clouds. 
Piled up the vaulted height, to passage give 
The spirits of the tempest. Issuing forth, 
They, riding on the winds, did fiercely urge 
The elements to strife, most clamorous 
Where lightning-led they ranged the watery waste, 
5 



74 A DREAM. 

Which, thus illumed, its waves dark, serpentine, 

Revealed, high surging in encounter wild, 

Like huge leviathans in fury met 

Fiercely contending. Now above the roar 

Of the loud sea the deepening thunder rose — 

And died away upon the wind. Anon 

From the dark zenith of the firmament, 

In louder voice its angry mutterings broke. 

And rolling downward burst into a crash ! 

Then every cloud, in emulation fierce, 

Thundered reply, rending the trembling air, 

As through the ambient darkness, inky grown, 

Each gave defiant challenge to the night, 

And hushed the mighty roaring of the sea. 

Flaming, the lightnings, red-tongued, lick the waves. 

Which heavenward madly reared their mammoth 

forms. 
Till, by the tempest struck, back hurled they plunged 
With roars defiant to their surging depths. 
Out on the sea, lit by the lightnings' glare, 
Flash following flash in wild velocity, 
A ship swept on before the tempest's strength, 
Rose with the maddened waves, sank as they sank, 
Then in the Hadean darkness disappeared. 



The fulmines of the storm .were spent, though still 
The forces of the winds swept to the cliffs, 



A DREAM. 75 

Resistless in their might, hurling the waves, 
To fury lashed, 'gainst their black adamant. 
As if back summoned to their cavern strengths, 
Rebellious they in fierce resentment raged. 
The broken clouds now hurried o'er the sky, 
And laid their shattered masses 'neath the arch 
Which marks the southern limits of the heavens. 
Their serrate summits by the moon illumed, 
"Which now released, in mellow brilliancy 
Flooded the waves — to very mountains grown. 
There, laboring o'er their heights, the doomed ship 
Rose, mastless, tottered on their giant crests. 
Then headlong plunged to their abyssmal depths. 
But rose not up again. — The waves rolled o'er 
Inexorable — 



From my sleep I woke ; 
Still murmuring, in the sunset lay the sea. 




SONNETS. 




CANADA. 



All-worthy Offspring of earth's noblest, Thou ! 
Bold in thy blameless life and staunch-knit frame 
(Through which full course, as thy stout deeds pro- 
claim 

The healthful currents that from freedom flow), 

Thou stand'st among the Nations ! On thy brow 
Beams Virtue's diadem, whose jewels bright. 
Kept by thy jealous care, a peerless light 

Unwavering shed. With equal balance, lo, 

At thy right hand sits Justice, Mercy-crowned ! 
Thy handmaid Honor ; while firm at thy side 
Stands armored Loyalty, pointing with pride 

To thy Imperial Mother o'er enthroned ! 

Champion of Justice, Truth, and Liberty, 

As they are great, so shall thy glory be. 




80 MY MOTHER. 



MY MOTHER. 



Remember thee, my mother ! while, this heart 
Life holds, shall Memory ever fondly there 
Cherish the record of thy love, thy care. 

And, until life shall thence fore'er depart, 

With grateful voice thy joraises shall declare. 
A mother's love ! in that celestial land 

Where all is love, there is no theme more dear : 
E'er chosen when for grateful song attend 

The heavenly bands. His praises first proclaimed, 
To harpings sweet then hymned this theme of love 
Earth's brightest truth ! in the glad Courts above 

Next love divine most worthy to be named. 

As thou, my Mother, didst my youth attend. 

So would I prove thy comfort to the end ! 



•^ 



SOLITUDE. • 81 



SOLITUDE. 



Oh, I do love to wander by the shore 
And watch the restless waters of the deep, 
As the night winds across its bosom sweep, 

Blending their wild complainings with its roar ! 

I love to wander through the shadowy wood 

As, phantom-like, the wan moonlight there creeps. 
Where, 'neath the sen trying stars, tired Nature 
sleeps 

And Silence sits enthroned in Solitude ! 

Such scenes a deep, mysterious pleasure bear, 
"Waking a prescient spirit in the breast, 
Timid of day, which from a vague unrest 

Finds glad relief raptly communing there 

With spirit voices from far spheres which tell 

Of distant worlds to sense invisible ! 




82 • TO-MOKROW. 



TO-MORROW. 



Fakewell till flowers return. Ah, could we know 
The darkness of that said fore'er 't would seem 
Thus marked but as the shadow of a dream ; 
A transitory cloud destined to show 
How full the light beyond. Lo now, though far 
To love. Time's darkened corridors between 
Its brightness falls, as through some dark aisle seen 
The light of day, and thitherto Hope's star 
Shall guide the steps of Faith. So e'en with joy 
May we regard such shadows which Time's flight 
Resolves to pillars of enduring light, 
Traced with sweet memories of fond constancy. 
Which ever in the after years shall prove 
The dearest of all dear records to love ! 



MUSIC. 83 



MUSIC. 



Come, sacred Muse, naught like thy strains compose 

The longing heart, nor there can charm to rest- 
Sorrow's lament, and oh, what peace it knows 

When by thy entrancing presence 't is possessed ! 
E'en as a bird at the sweet dawn of day 
Sought by its mate, joins it and soars away 

Through sun-flushed fields of azure, circling round 
To some bright glade where cherished fruits abound. 
My soul solicitous, at thy behest. 

To thy loved realm joyously wings its flight, 
In thy embrace there ravished with delight 
Till sweetly soothed it trembles into rest. 
All other joys the passions but control, 
'T is thou alone hath power to reach the soul 1 




84 LICET, 



LICET. 



Relentless Fate ! struck by thy venomed dart 

Hope quivering lies, as palsying thou dost press 
The icy hand on this despairing heart, 

Congealing there all ^ save its bitterness ! 
Beneath thy scourge e'en willingly I've stood. 

Nor yet complained though sore its lashes fell, 
While still hope's star illumed the solitude 

Of disappointment where thou badst me dwell. 
And now, oh wouldst thou bid my heart to quench 

The one, last light which in this bosom gives 
Hope its sole ray ; and from its shrine to wrench 

The dear idea on which alone it lives ! 
I who have bowed, still loved thee for this bliss, 
Remorseless fate, canst thou not spare me this ? 




DARKNESS. 85 



DARKNESS. 



Sleep-bound I lay in the dream-vale of night. 
Death, wan Despair, sightless Ambition, Lust, 
There gathered in contention, 'mid the dust 
Of crumbled hopes, threw for my heart. In sight 
Methought it lay, wrenched bleeding from its seat. 
Then Love, smooth-limbed, white but for heat, came 

there 
With eyes of palpitating fire, a living flame 
That from the crimson font drew vapory heat. 
Rising nepenthean, soothing Pain's mute desire. 
Death disappeared ; the noxious ones dismay 
Struck, quickly turned and trembling fled away. 
Love healed my heart, with kisses of sweet fire 
Burned there eternity ; named it her own — 
* * Light 'neath my lids ? O Death ! would thou 
hadst won. 




MEDITATION. 



MEDITATION. 



In that still hour when the declining day 
Along the sky fades tranquilly away, 

When o'er the earth the glimmering twilight creeps, 
All voices hashing as dear Nature sleeps. 

In solitude, naught save the symphony 

Of ocean heard, I love to seek thy charms, 
Where naught ignoble the glad soul alarms, 

As rapturously it yields itself to thee. 

Silent thou art, thy silence eloquence, 
Raising the soul to its inherent life, 

Which, casting oflf its mortal instruments, 

Soars far beyond earth's narrow scene of strife, 

And, led by thee, views that immortal state 

In which it too shall soon participate! 




INRI. 87 



INRI.^ 



When on the cross hung man's high sacrifice, 
Death near approached his work to execute, 
Awe-struck recoiled, in fear irresolute 

His office on his King to exercise. 

Then bowing to his breast his head, the Christ 
Made sign to the Implacable, that he, 
Without regard to right of sovereignty, 

Should claim the sacrifice at which was priced 

Man's sin. Then did th' Inexorable strike — 
The fearful Sun to darkness paling fled ; 
Earth, trembling, shrank to night's embrace, the 
dead 

E'en by that deed of their dread prince made quick. 

Did him defy — he had forever spent 

His power in striking the Omnipotent ! 

1 The first eleven lines of this sonnet are translated from the French of an 
unknown author of the seventeenth century. They occur in a little poem en- 
titled " La Mort du Christ," which was found inscribed upon the principal 
gate of the cemetery which formerly surrounded the Church of Sainte-Trinit§, 
in Cherbourg. 



MISCELLANEOUS. 




LOVE AND DIGNITY. 



AN ALLEGORY. 



It was June ; in a vale, as the day was declining, 
Near a lakelet rose-hued by the soft, waning light, 

Stately Dignity walked, in the silence resigning 

His thought to those scenes which most gladdened 
his sight. 

Not far had he gone when he heard a deep sighing 
Which came from a cluster of roses near by. 

And great his surprise when among them espying 
The little god Cupid, — who 'd uttered the sigh. 



On his arm he reclined, with a rose in his fingers, 
From which he was plucking its leaflets away. 

While, as a bright star on a cloud's summit lingers, 
A tremulous tear on his dark lashes lay. 



92 LOVE AND DIGNITY. 

" And what has disturbed you ? " asked Dignity, kindly. 

Cupid started, and fluttered his wings in dismay ; 
But feared, in the presence he found himself, blindly 

To follow his feelings and scamper away. 

He made no reply ; simply jDointed before him 

Where an arrow lay broken, — the source of his woe, 

As he bit those sweet lips for which women adore him. 
And patted his bare little leg with his bow ! 

" Indeed, and is that it ? Just as I expected ; 

'T would seem you 've not done as instructed " — 
" 'T is true," — 
« Precisely, now had you done as I directed " — 

" You would say I 'd not had this misfortune to rue." 

*' This once," Love continued, " good Dignity spare 
me," 

Looking up in his face with a coy, suasive smile, 
" And come here to-morrow at this hour, and hear me 

Recount my success with proud Beauty meanwhile." 

" Most gladly I will, so good-night, but remember ! " 
" Never fear," Love replied, with glance roguishly 
bright, 
Then with wings rustling softly, as leaves 'neath a 
zephyr, 
He rose on a sunbeam and passed out of sight. 



LOVE AND DIGNITY. 93 

Next eve to the vale, ere the snu had ceased shining, 
Came Dignity, — 't was one he long had loved best, — 

And there, on a bed of rich blossoms reclining. 
He beheld Beauty fondling a rose on her breast. 

Quick, with rapturing pulsation, his heart beat, but 
hearing 

A sound as of Love's half-suppressed voice near by. 
He concealed his emotion, then to her appearing, 

He approached, as upon him she smiled graciously. 

Love had led her hither, and now near her hiding, 
'Mid the blossom-flaked foliage, as Dignity came 

He sped a bright arrow, fire-tipped, which dividing 
His heart, kindled there its wild, exquisite flame ! 

Thus struck, beside Beauty he fell, to her pleaded 
To draw from his bosom the still flaming dart ; 

She, while soothing the wound, saw but Love e'er 
could heal it, 
The arrow was buried so deep in his heart ! 

Then in flight Cupid cried, " Dignity, I regret to 
Have missed you, as now I 've no time to wait, for 

My quiver is empty. I did not forget you. 

You see. Now I 'm ofl" for a few arrows more ! " 

Now though passed out of sight, in soft, dulcet numbers 
His voice lingered still, urging his sweet decree. 



94 LOVE AND DIGNITY. 

While the flowers his warm wings had kissed from 
their slumbers, 
On the yet wooing sunbeams spent their sweets wan- 
tonly ! 

Soon 't was clear from the manner of Beauty in press- 
ing 
Her hand 'gainst her breast, quickly palpitating. 
Love had there sent an arrow, — the rogue when pro- 
fessing 
His quiver empty, had his darts 'neath his wing. 





MUSIC AND MEMORY. 



AN ALLEGORY. 



Music once wandering through the heart, 

As daylight died away, 
Found Memory sleeping by a tomb 

Whose verdure withering lay. 

Whispering she touched the slumberer 

Softly as the moon's beam 
The folded flower, then passed away 

As vanishes a dream ! 



Memory awoke and caught the voice 

Reechoing plaintively, 
Then, weeping, viewed where she had slept. 

And oh, how bitterly ! 



96 MUSIC AND MEMORY. 

But balmful were tlie tears thus shed, 

And the flowers which there drooped lay- 
Beneath their sweet refreshment bloomed 
And beautified decay. 

And now, no greener spot is there, 

For Memory loves to twine 
The richest verdure of the heart 

Around that sacred shrine. 





THE GLADIATOR. 



The following lines are a "free" translation from the French of 
Chenedolle (1769-1833), and are inserted as of interest by reason 
of their being substantially identical, as -vvill at once be observed, 
with those so universally known and justly admired of Lord By- 
ron on the same subject, occurring in " Childe Harold." Unfort- 
unately for his French contemporary, it has been incontestibly 
established that " our author " spoke first by two years. 



Spurned, bleeding victim of a barbarous lust 
Imperial Rome's ! the gladiator falls 
On the arena homicidal, there 

In calm repose yielding himself to death. 

Low drooped upon his arm, within his heart 
He concentrates his residue of strength ; 
Consents to death, yet conquers agony, ^ 

While dauntless still he braves the Roman foe. 



H congent a la mort, domptant Tagonie." 



98 THE GLADIATOR. 

Fast fails his strength, and lower sinks his head ; 
He feels his life depart. The drops of blood 
Which he beholds calmly and fearless ftiU, 

From his torn side more slowly now descend. 

Far from this scene of horror are his thoughts. 
To his loved home alone they fondly turn, 
Where 'neath his roof, beside the Danube's shore, 

Affection sees his darling infant ones. 

Them by their mother's knee he there beholds, 

While in a spectacle inhuman he 

Expiring lies, before an "alien race. 
Butchered to amuse the Roman populace ! 

Now o'er his face death's pallid hue is spread ; 
He dies, yet ne'er surrendering once to fear. 
While with disdain the shouts prolonged he hears 

That hail the victor — guilty of his blood ! 

Oh, bloody deed ! — dare man thus outrage man ? 

Rise ye, ye fierce barbarians of the north ! 

Speed to revenge your son's ignoble death ; 
Quick, lest Rome still finds pleasure in your blood ! 




QUAND MEME. 



How can I paint thy beauties ; how relate 
Thy virtues ? words to compass them so fail 

Thy graces — to the cadence of thy feet, 
Make artful Speech its poverty reveal. 

Language too poor to justly celebrate 

The temple of thy form ; the grace to tell 

Of its fair priestess, matchless ! — Sight alone 

Can know how perfect Beauty's paragon ! 



I may not say that peerless Music's strain 

More richly pours since I have known thy love ; 

I may not say fair Dian with her train 
Of stars refulgent, in her course above 

Now brighter beams ; and yet Music's refrain 

More rapturous falls ; yon orbs — all things now 
prove 

Sources of joy undreamt, and to love yield 

Rich springs of sweetness ne'er before revealed. 



100 QUAND MEME. 

E'en as the rising sun with his royal light 
Doth flood the world in nameless radiancy ; 

Raising all sunk in darkness by the night 
To share the glory of his majesty, 

So shall thy love impart higher delight 
To every joy, and life's ambitions be 

Exalted to a nobler aim, and yet — 

Nay, thy sweet eyes rebuke that thought — forget ! 

'Mid their soft depths, dark as the star-filled skies, 
As 'mid the night heat's silent lightnings play. 

In quivering warmth love's flames reflected rise 
From the altar thy heart hath built to me. 

And there shall love joyously sacrifice 

This self it hath bound captive, for to thee 

Who hast enthroned its image in my breast, 

'T would consecrate the life thou thus hast blest ! 

As 't were from sleep thou 'st waked me ; changed to 
day 

The darkness of the past, — appearing now 
How dark ! And thence emerged all wondrously 

This new-found world breaks glorious on the view, 
And circling all — as doth the earth the sky. 

Love doth encompass this creation new, 
Of which thou art the Queen, a sovereignty 
In which thou 'st crowned me Consort unto thee ! 



^?^' 



' ' ' * ' ' iC2 




ADDRESS 



TO THE MOON, 



Thou orb sublime ! That from the boundless sky 
Night's darkening curtain now dost upward roll, 

And flood'st the world in balmful brilliancy 

That steals like dream-hushed music on the soul, 

From this still height, amid the breathless grove, 
Whereon thou dost thy first soft brightness shed, 

I watch thee rise with an adoring love, 
Thou Queen of light in majesty arrayed ! 

Above yon looming cliff, whose sombre height, 

Black 'gainst the sky, o'erlooks the slumbering sea 

Thou soar'st aloft, dissolving into light 
The waters, cradled to tranquillity. 



102 ADDRESS TO THE MOON. 

Mounted on high, now doth thy radiance 

Fill earth and sea. Most welcome art thou there 

To mariners, — in thy bright countenance 
Tracing loved faces which wait them afar. 

Yonder the distant city sleeps, revealed by thee, 
As thou dost silver dome and spire there. 

Whence now, scarce heard above the murmuring sea. 
The midniojht bell steals o'er the slumberins: air. 

As thy full beams disperse night's gathered gloom 
'Mid its dark scenes, what haunts of misery there : 

What drear abodes of anguish they illume, 
Sunk in the rayless midnight of despair ! 

What thoughts disturb the lonely convict's heart 
As now he views thee from his ironed cell, 

Of childhood's days ; of cherished hopes depart, 
Which he remembers — ah, too sadly well. 

He feels thy beams, as now his night they invade, 
Rest on a scene which memory weeps to trace : 

A grave amid the village church-yard's shade, 
Of her who sank beneath a child's disgrace. 

Thus, what diversity of scene untold 

Dost thou behold ; what mighty empires sway 

Hast seen, as through long ages thou hast rolled, 
As now thou roU'st unchanged — yet where are they ? 



ADDRESS TO THE MOON. 103 

Where now is haughty Babylonia's might 
Which madly dai-ed Omnipotence deride ? 
For thou hast too illumed her guilty site 
As now the plain which sepulchres her pride ! 

So shall thy beams, before another sun, 
Look on the walls of crumbling Pompeii, 
And from the heights of silent Lebanon 
Flood the still waves of holy Galilee. 



Infinite theme ! Thou God all-powerful, 
Whose hand directs e'en as Thy hand hath made 
The Universe stupendous ! who may tell 
The countless wonders of Thy work displayed. 





FAREWELL. 



Dear love, adieu ; while thou, when I am gone, 
With memory seek'st each love-remembered spot, 

Fear not if, when thou deem'st thyself alone, 
A presence name thee though thou see'st it not 

Fondly the voice shall breathe to thee of him 

Whose heart from thee can know no pulse of joy ; 

And when thou hear'st do thou return love's name, 
And it shall make thee answer, it is I. 

For as the spirits of the stars invest 

All constantly the bosom of the sea, 
Though far removed, so shall love's spirit rest 

By its dear shrine though I be far from thee. 

And when thou viewest those warders of the night 
With their watch-fires illume the darkening sky. 

Bethink thee that their beams changelessly bright. 
Image the love this bosom bears for thee. 



FAREWELL. 105 

There is a pulse deep lying in the heart, 

Which ne'er responds save when love, distant gone, 
With spirit touch doth sweep its chords, to impart 

A sweet blent joy and sorrow else unknown. 

Then 'mid the inner chambers of the soul 
Their voices, joined in mystic harmony. 

Reechoing steal, till 'neath their soft control 
The heart is soothed to sweet tranquillity. 

So, far from thee, would love wake in thy breast 
A pulse for each that thrills this heart of mine ; 

Which deems itself of all most richly blest 
Whene'er it yields one happiness to thine. 

Remember me. To guard the lamp of thought 

Which lights love's shrine, place thou sweet Con- 
stancy ; 

E'en in thy prayers be it neglected not 
So shall it gather an immortal ray. 

Remember thee! So surely art thou throned 
Within my heart, there is no power thence e'er 

Saving with life, can take thee ; and beyond, 
Else uncontent, shall love thy image bear. 

Good-night ; farewell, — farewell, ah, how doth love 
Against that word, next feared to death, rebel ; 

Nay, worse than death that to this heart must prove. 
And death thrice sweet when comes indeed farewell ! 

7 




LINES 

WRITTEN UPON VISITING THE "NATIONAL CEMETERY," ARLING- 
TON, VA., WHERE ARE BURIED THE REMAINS OF FORTY THOU- 
SAND UNION soldiers; THEIR GRAVES, FOR THE MOST PART, 
BEING MARKED BY A PLAIN WHITE BOARD, MANY OF WHICH 
BEAR THE SI3IPLE INSCRIPTION, " UNKNOWN SOLDIER." 

" To those who have some friend or brother there." 



Ye patriot dead ! o'er your sleep of devotion 

Beams the proud star of victory, all gloriously bright ! 

Here by the dark stream, winding down to the ocean, 
Which beheld you go forth in the pride of your might. 

Full its radiance illumines the night which enfolds you, 
Reflecting your glory — which brightens its ray, — 

In the hearts which forever with pride shall behold you, 
Through ages to come as through years passed away. 



And can it then be that " unknown " ye are sleeping 
By the fields of your valor, so fearlessly trod ? 

Can a Nation forget that the fruits she is reaping 
Are sprung from the soil warmed to life by thy blood ! 



LINES. 107 

Ye are known : by the hearts which — sorrow e'er at- 
tending — 

Your memory embalm in love's holiest perfumes ; 
By the tears of a Nation which o'er you descending 

Refresh the sweet flowers that wave o'er your tombs. 

Thus not here, where the bleak winds in rude lamen- 
tation 
Complainingly wander among the sad pine, 
Are you tombed, but your graves the warm hearts of a 
Nation, 
Where evergreen blooming, love's memories twine. 

No more shall the thunders of battle elate you ; 

No more shall the trumpet of victory thrill — 
Till the last trumpet's sound, which forever shall wake 
you 

Triumphant to rise to the life immortal ! 





TO MY BIRD. 



Who fashioned thy exquisite symmetry, 
Thou little fay of song, thou paragon 

Of grace ; what wondrous cunning artisan 
The texture wove of thy rich livery ? 

What hand the delicate machinery cast 

Which thus thy wings so marvellously propel ? 

Who in thy tiny frame the forces placed, 
Which move it thus, obedient to thy will ? 

What hast thou in that little throat of thine 
To trill such notes of dulcet purity ? 

Who taught thee thus in minstrelsy divine 
To pour thy song in rhythmic harmony ? 

Perchance it was in thine own native shades. 
The purling brook, the voices of the woods, 

Where now thy fellows in bright flowery glades, 
Fill with sweet song their island solitudes. 



TO MY BIRD. 109 

But these thou ne'er hast known ; then 't was thy sire 
Tuned thy sweet voice ? Nay, loud thy warblings tell, 

In praises rising softly, sweetly higher, 

'T was nature's God that fashioned thee so well ! 

Would I could tell thee how I love thy song ; 

How dear to me, my lovely one, thou art. 
Why fly'st thou from me ? I but fondly long 

With kindliest hand to lay thee to my heart. 

How happily wouldst thou lie upon my breast, 

Didst thou but know how warms my heart to thee, 

Yet, nestling there, in thy sweet eye's unrest. 
Pained I behold thou fain wouldst fly from me. 

Thou canst not understand my words, I know. 
But love hath many voices, and for thee 

Nature hath surely purposed one, and so 
I am content, for Time will teach it me. 





THE LITANY. 



VERSIFIED. 



O God, the King of heaven Thou ! 
Before Thy throne we sinners bow ; 
Our sins with mercy look upon 
For Jesu's sake, Thine only Son ! 

O God, the Son, Redeemer, we 
Unworthy sinners look to Thee : 
Thy mercy — Thou didst sorrow know 
To us most miserable show. 

O God, Great Spirit, Holy One, 
Proceeding from the Father, Son, 
In prayer our souls we lift to Thee, 
To us a strong defender be. 



O Father, Son, and Spirit, three, 
One blest and glorious Trinity, 



THE LITANY. Ill 

Look down in mercy as we bend, 
To us Thy timely succor lend. 

Remember not, O gracious God, 

Our ways, nor those our fathers trod ; 

Spare us by Thy Incarnate Word 

E'en from Thy righteous vengeance. Lord ! 

From evil, mischief, and all sin : 
From Satan*s crafts, without, within : 
'Neath Thy just wrath let us not fall. 
Thou God, most just, most merciful I 

By Thy holy incarnation ; 
Thy baptism, fast, temptation ; 
By remembrance of Thy birth ; 
By Thy agony on earth ; 

By Thy pain. Thy bloody sweat; 
By Thy cross. Thy passion, death ; 
By Thy dark sepulchral sleep ; 
Borne that we might death escape ; 

By Thy resurrection shown ; 
Thy ascension to Thy throne ; 
By Thy Holy Spirit's sway, 
O Christ, deliver us, we pray ! 



112 THE LITANY. 

When tossed upon life's troubled sea ; 
When blinded by prosperity ; 
In death's dark hour — in that dread day, 
O Christ ! deliver us we pray. 

[Do Thou, O Lord, in Thy great love. 
Our Sovereign's heart to wisdom move ; 
May she in Jesu's strength put on 
Affiance have in Thee alone.] 

Dear Lamb of God, how dark the night, 
Which conquering death Thou 'st made so bright ; 
Through life, in death, be Thou the way 
Which leads us to eternal day ! 





A THOUGHT. 



I WATCHED a rose at evening fade away, 
As leaf by leaf its crimson richness fell, 

And sadly gazing thought, may thus decay 
Such beauty claim, thence irredeemable ? 

I sought in vain the multitudinous dew. 
An hour before glittering in bright array 

Along the sward, nor aught was left to show 

What glory thence had passed from earth away ! 

The spirit of the flower, the soul, methought. 
Of fire in the dew, thus fled, must pass 

To some bright realm, and straight my fancy sought 
To place the sphere worthy such loveliness. 



To phosphor floating in her sea of light — 
An isle of glory ; to th' enchanted sphere 

Arched by the iris ; to each star its flight 
Did Fancy wing — successless voyager. 



114 A THOUGHT. 

I stood amid a brilliant scene of joy, 

Where Beauty moved, in Music's sweet embrace, 
Shedding on all a nameless radiancy 

From the divine effulgence of her face ! 

Then Love exultant cried : " That fit repose 
By Fancy sought, e'en here all glorious view : 

In Beauty's cheek immortal blooms the rose ; 
In Beauty's eyes the fires born in the dew ! " 



STANZA 



WRITTEN IN THE FLY-LEAF OF A BOOK PRESENTED TO DOC- 

XOR * * * * ON HIS RETURN TO HIS HOME IN 

BERMUDA. 



With this adieu — alas that jealous Fate 
Should ever thus fond friendships separate ! 
Mayst thou and thine by joy e'er compassed be 
As are thine isles by their glad, sunlit sea. 




PROLOGUE 

WRITTEN FOE THE * * * * AMATEUR DRAMATIC 
SOCIETY. 



Before the players here begin their task, 

The kind attention of our guests we ask 

To a few measures coupled into rhyme, 

Which being brief, one brief measure of time 

Will hold them all, and this a goodly measure 

Withal must prove if it afford you pleasure, 

And, as we judge, if you are fond of meeting 

In a new dress an old, familiar greeting, 

This we may hope, though by the rhyming code 

The dress we 've chosen be not a la mode. 

Howe'er 't is likely since the dress is neiv 

'T will please the fair, and if this it should do. 

Of course we shall not lose the approbation 

Of the less gentle sex, whose admiration 

Is ne'er withheld when Beauty deigns to smile — 

Beauty e'en goddess crowned in Paphos' classic isle ! 



116 PROLOGUE. 

As 'tis the custom where the play hath made 

" The hundredth night " (and jDrofit doth persuade 

To the e'en liberal tribute) to present 

Each lady flowers, in due acknowledgment : 

So would we now present to all who grace 

With their bright presence this our meeting place 

One flower, of all the fairest of its kind, 

Which with our * =* ^ ^ hath been entwined 

Since first 't was chosen in the years gone by 

As emblem for our glad fraternity. 

This flower to all most sweet, and doubly dear 

Because for all some blossoms it doth bear. 

And though perforce for some it richer grows, 

For all its fragrance equal sweetness knows, 

Be it where in the cotter's home 't is found 

Or in baronial halls where wealth's rich tints abound. 

Nursed 'neath a sun more warm than that of day, 

A sun which beams with all immortal ray, 

This flower, — unlike the blooms which 'neath the sun 

Of summer smile, to fade when summer 's gone, — 

Ne'er changing smiles ; its radiant face e'er one 

In tropic lands or the bleak northern zone, 

While in the Elysian fields its blossoms bear 

The richest perfume of all gathered there. 

Its name once said, none here but will confess 

All words must fail its richness to express. 

While every heart with warmer pulse must beat 

To hear a name to all so passing sweet ; 



PROLOGUE. 117 

A name above all others that we prize ; 

The first of all within our hearts to rise 

For those we love when to our hearths they come ; 

The first to warm the wanderer's heart when home 

Again is reached, as its sweet sound before 

Was music in his dreams on many a distant shore ! 

This then it is that Fancy paints a flower, 

As truest emblem of the sweet and pure 

And ever beauteous sentiment whose fame 

Thus celebrating, we would now proclaim : 

Welcome its name, and this we gladly give 

To all, and while the ^ * '* "* shall live. 

With it this e'er shall flourish, side by side. 

To be as it hath been, our joy and pride. 

" Its sun," you ask, of which our lines relate, 

'Neath which it knows a more congenial heat 

Than that of day ? Good-will (toward all) its name ; 

A sun which shines with an immortal beam. 

And here we feel its genial rays to-night. 

And from the flower " welcome," which its light 

Its beauty gives, the choicest sweets we choose. 

And to present them thus attends the Muse, 

Who with a pleasure inexpressible 

Profusely scatters them to each and all, 

On every hand, wishing that none may e'er 

Less cordial greetings know than meet them here. 




SUNSET. 



A FRAGMENT. 



Lo, dowu tlie western slope the king of day 
Majestic moves on his sphere-circling way ; 
To welcome whom the Occidental Queen 
Resplendent comes, with her rich vestured train, 
'Neath the blue arch, with royal colors bright. 
Which vaults the entrance to her realm of light ! 

Of burnished gold her airy palace stands. 
Gilding the azure which high o'er expands ; 
Its glittering dome with richest crimson hung 
And broidered ensigns from its summit flung, 
Of countless colors, barred and fringed with gold, 
Which to the heavens their wavy lengths unfold. 



As 'neath the portal moves the majesty 
Of day, th' attendant pageant marshally 



SUNSET. 119 

In columns form — gold, orange, purple, blue, 
And as the royal Comer passes through 
Their ranging lines, each phalanx raise on high 
Their oriflammes, proclaiming fealty ! 

As now beyond the flame-emitting height 
Majestically descends their sovereign light, 
Deployed they follow, slowly lost to view, 
Till the last passes 'neath the vaulting blue. 

Soon waiting Nox swings to the gates of light, 
Shutting the final progress from the sight, 
When, gathering fast, attend the sentrying stars 
Marshalled by their proud Queen, or chieftain. Mars. 

The lowing kine now homeward take their way. 
Each member slowly filing o'er the lea, 
A moment loitering at the way-side stream 
On which the last, faint flecks of daylight gleam. 

Amid the wood, sings modest Philomel, 

Upon the silence her love madrigal 

As sweetly falling as the tinkling rill 

Heard through the midnight when all else is still. 

Softly quick Echo, wakened at the strain, 

Keplies accordant to the sweet refrain 

From secret haunts which none but wood-nymphs 

know. 
Save the Enchantress of the lunar bow. 



120 



SUNSET. 



Soon dewy showers disturb the evening lay, 
And Philomela's warblings die away, 
When with her Echo sinks into repose, 
And silence o'er the earth her mantle throws. 





A REMEMBRANCE. 



I STOOD alone on the pebbled beach 
As the moon rose over the sea, 

And the doleful break of the restless waves, 
Brought sad memories to me. 

Across her silvery path o'er the wave 

A ship passed into the night : 
Though it glided by ere I 'd viewed it well, 

I can never forget that sight. 

E'en thus, I thought, on life's path appear 

Sweet faces soon lost to sight 
For evermore, — to find in the heart 

A shrine love keeps ever bright. 
8 




"SWEET FLOWER.' 



■ Sweet flower, and must thy beauty fade, 
Though born but yesterday ? — 

Scarce one short day of life, and now 
Thou hasten'st to decay." 



" True, brief is my abiding here,' 
Replied the flower, " and yet 
If earth be sweeter for my life 
I know naught of regret." 





LOVE TO THE MIRROR. 



Since all my darts in vain assail her breast, 
Show thou to her the charms for which I sigh, 

That wooed by beauty she entranced may gaze 
And, like Narcissus, self-enamored die ! 



TO 



In her high temple Memory shall enshrine, 
As love hath in the temple of the heart, — 
Thy image 'neath that of the Muse divine, 
Whose votary and favored child thou art. 




LOVE IN ABSENCE. 



" En e amor la auscencia es como el aire, que apaga el fuego chico, 6 en 
ciende el grande." — Spanish Proverb. 



A LITTLE fire 

Doth soon exj^ire 
'Neath the wind's agitation, 

Whereas the same 

A greater flame 
Swells to a conflagration ! 

E'en so to love 
Doth absence prove: 

A little fire o'er-turning, 
But once the breast 
Love's flames invest, 

It sets them wildly burning. 




LINES IN AN ALBUM. 



As oft beneath the church-yard's quiet shade 
We wander musing at the close of day, 
And mark the sadd'ning records telling there 
Of fondest friendships which have passed away ; 
So in life's evening when thine eyes shall stray 
Amid these pages, to thy memory dear, 
Pass not tfiis leaf — in sacred friendship's name 
Fondly I now inscribe " remembrance " here. 

THE SAME. 

Spotless this page where now my verse I place ; 
E'en thus the record of thy young life is. 
Would that as here friendship I fondly trace 
I there might grave unfading happiness. 

THE SAME. 

My autograph you ask ? Behold 
Upon this page I gladly write it. 
May smiles alone attend the lips 
At whose command I now indite it. 




LINES. 



If o'er each worthier birth some proud star shines, 

Importing favors for its foster child, 
By genius dowered or gifted from the shrines 

Which hold the wealth of Virtue's sacred guild, 

Surely o'er hers in whom combined appear 
Genius and virtues which might more adorn, 

In happiest conjunction many a star 

Propitious beamed, blessing the natal-morn. 





IN MEMORIAM. 



In death thou sleep'st — blessed immunity ! 
Life's ills to change for immortality, 
A stranger here, thy soul in glad release 
Hath sought the regions of eternal peace. 
What though thy form is laid beneath the sod I 
Earth gains but earth : thy soul is with thy God. 
Though cold and dark may be thy earthy bed, 
It holds but dust — thy ransomed spirit fled, 
On joyful wing, to the bright fields above, 
Now knows the fulness of the Saviour's love. 
Thus over death, striving for victory, 
Faith-armed, the soul rises triumphantly ; 
The grave — which e'er to crush the soul 

striven — 
Proving the portal to the courts of Heaven. 



hath 



SONGS. 




SEE, DOWN THE MOUNTAIN'S SHADOWY 
SIDE. 



See, clown the mountain's shadowy side 
Two rivulets unnoticed glide, 
Till, meeting in the vale below, 
Wedded a sparkling stream they flow — 
The drift fhey thus to ocean bear 
Separate they could not carry there. 



Thus wedded souls by grief o'erta'en 

A mutual aid impart : 
The sorrows they may thus sustain 
Would break a single heart. 

The burdens they together share 
They could not if divided bear. 




THERE 'S SOME ONE WITH THE BRIGHT- 
EST EYES. 



There 's some one with the brightest eyes 

That ever love betrayed ; 
There 's some one with the sweetest smile 

That beauty e'er displayed, 
Whose image, wheresoe'er I be, 

Love ever brings to view, 
And who that some one is, fairest, 

I scarce need name to you. 



There is an anxious heart that knows 

A rapture it conceals. 
And longing waits the hour to speak 

The fulness which it feels. 
Its joy alone beneath that smile, 

'Neath those sweet eyes of blue, 
And in whose breast it beats, sweet one. 

Oh, need I name to you ? 



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OH, WHEN THE HEART IS BREAKING. 



Oh, when tlie heart is breaking 
'Neath cruel death o'er-taking 
Its pulses fond and true. 
What 's grief's one throb of pleasure 
What 's memory's fondest treasure? 
The fond, the last adieu ! 

Then hope, no more deluding. 
The shade of death secluding 
Its beams fore'er from view, 
What soothes the pain of sorrow ; 
What balm can memory borrow ? 
The fond, the last adieu. 





BRIGHT BIRD OF SPRING." 



Bright bird of spring, I greet thee, 

Though thou sorrow bring'st to me, 
As glad as are the warblings 

Of thy sweet minstrelsy. 
Thy presence wakes remembrance 

Of the loved I lost with thee. 
Till I scarce can bear the anguish 

Of the thoughts that rise in me. 



With thee the flowers sad Autumn 

Laid in earth's snow-white breast. 
Return, but ne'er may come again 

My loved laid there to rest. 
And so e'en to thy happy song, — 

Too brief for joy before, 
Must sorrow's voice within my heart 

Lament far evermore. 




I LOVE TO LOOK INTO THINE EYES. 



I LOVE to look into tliine eyes, 
Thy soul's bright mirrors, where 

Its crystal depths reflected beam — 
Glancing in beauty there ! 

I love to look into thine eyes, 

Sweet springs which, sparkling o'er 

Life's sterile plain, refreshment yield 
Else never known before. 



I love to look into thine eyes 
Where virtues mirrored are ; 

Virtues which Modesty would hide 
By Truth revealed there. 




HOPE, WHAT ART THOU TO ME ? 



Hope, what art thou to me ? 

A vapor flame that warms not : 
Those oft deceived by thee 

Thy vain iUusion charms not. 

The darkness of desj^air 

Thy changeful beams iUume not, 
Saving to unmask there 

The horrors they consume not. 





BARCAROLLE. 



Right merrily 

O'er the billows free 
Our light bark swiftly glides, 

And the mellow light 

Of the starry night 
Our course o'er the water guides. 

With thoughts as free 

As the rolling sea, 
O'er the tossing waves we bound, 

While in the deep, 

As we onward sweep. 
Our oars fall with musical sound ! 

Chorus. 

Then row with a will, with a will, boys. 

And sing as we go with a will, boys ! 

Our strength to the oar, speeding far from the shore. 

O'er the sea we love as we e'er will, boys. 



188 BARCAROLLE. 

The winds we brave, 

While the bounding wave 
Obedient to our will, 

Like a mettled steed 

From its curbings freed, 
Bears us onward — onward still ! 

The waves may dash, 

The lightnings flash, 
And the winds oppose our course — 

These our joy to dare. 

Their wild sport to share, 
As we mingle our voices with theirs ! 

Chorus. 

Then row with a will, with a will, boys, 

And sing as we go with a will, boys ! 

Our strength to the oar, speeding back to the shore, 

O'er the sea we love, as we e'er will, boys ! 



FRAGMENTS. 




A VISION. 

fragment of a projected allegorical poem, 
"love and wealth." 



" J'^tais seul pres des flots; pas un nuage aux cieux, sur les mers pas de 
voiles. Mes yeux plongeaient plus loin que le monde rt^el." 

Victor Hugo. 



I HAD a dream, wherein it seemed to me 
I stood alone at daybreak, by a sea 
Amid whose waves I saw an island rise, 
A gem of beauty, 'gainst the azure skies. 
But little off, and though around me seemed 
Night's shadows still, a heavenly brightness beamed 
Upon the isle. From its luxuriant shade 
Sloped to the wave a strand of crystals made ; 
A radiant belt of scintillating light 
Which richly sparkled as faded the night 
Along the sea ; and as I gazed, methought 
I was translated to this beauteous spot. 



142 A VISION. 

On a hill-side I stood, bedecked in blue 

Of violets, glistening 'ueath pearly dew, 

As the light dawning o'er a flowery rise 

With softest rose tinted the lilac skies. 

Now, gilding the rich foliage of the spot, 

The risen sun resplendent glory brought, 

As stately palms put on their richest hue, 

And hidden flowers broke upon the view, 

"Waked by the breeze, which fraught with spicy scent, 

With purling streamlets, murmured of content. 

While countless songsters, decked in varied coats, 

Greeted each other with their mellow notes. 

Of former scenes I seemed to have no thought, 
Scarce a remembrance, as entranced I sought. 
With wandering step, each spot with beauty spread, 
Of hill and dale, in richest verdure clad. 
Where floral sweets and fruits luxuriant swayed ; 
Now crossing gurgling brooks of purest run. 
That softly carolled in the wondrous sun ; 
Now lost 'mid groves of royal fruits ne'er told. 
Entranced, bewildered at this scene of gold ! 

******** 
I now beheld a spot more perfect yet. 
If e'er perfection with itself hath met. 
Which rose from out a plain with gentle slope, 
A mount of blossoms to its palm-crowned top. 
Toward this I turned, that from its bright ascent 
I might perchance survey the isle's extent. 



A VISION. 143 

From which, soon reached, I viewed the landscape o'er 

On either side, from farther shore to shore. 

And thence beheld o'er many a verdured rise 

The waters stretch to meet the arching skies, 

As now, methought, the sun beyond the deep 

In crimson splendor, wearied, sank to sleep. 

Anon the moon, mounting the eastern height. 

Dispelled the shades of the attendant night. 

And thick and fast her silvery arrows flew 

Piercing the foliage, while her brightness threw 

Light upon all around, and now revealed 

A lake, before by its rich shades concealed. 

In a still vale it slept, sen tried around 

By wooded hills, and sweetly came the sound 

Of falling water from the wandering rills. 

Which left their course among the neighboring hills 

To seek its placid bosom. 

Now reclined 
Near the lake's edge, exhausted I resigned 
Myself to sleep. I had not thus remained 
A moment, seemingly, but had regained 
My strength anew, when suddenly I woke 
As on my ear the sound of footsteps broke. 
And in the foliage which about me grew 
I saw a figure disappear from view. 
Breathless I listened but there came no sound 
Save the soft murmur of the falls beyond, 
White in the moonlight, — then sweet symphonies 
Of music rose and died upon the breeze. 



144 A VISION. 

Then, by the light of the full risen moon, 

I saw before me, drawn up from the tide, 
A little skiff from purest coral hewn 

Of an exquisite model. From its side 
A silver oar, most delicately made. 

Hung in the wave, all drij^ping as it lay. 
While new-pressed footsteps which the sand displayed 

Declared its pilot was not far away. 

Quick to my feet I sprang, for just before me 

The most transporting sight ravished my eyes : 
A goddess stood, in all her pristine glory, 

Too beautiful for words to realize : 
She was not dressed as on this sphere the fashion, 

A hahitante of that enchanted clime. 
Yet, as it proved, that most seductive passion 

In her gave place to one far more sublime. 

Her feet in ribboned sandals were attired. 

And then, indeed, she wore — her dignity. 
Though, to be brief, her dress could be admired 

For nothing save its strict economy : 
Her wealth of hair was rolled into a — 

I scarcely know its delicate technique. 
Let each one call it what they will, I wist 

None but at once will know of what I speak. 
And there was throned in her sweet eyes a soul 

'Neath whose sweet force I seemed to live anew : 



A VISION. 145 

And when she smiled on me, with full control 
That new-found life quick to perfection grew. 

She stood beside her little craft, which hid 

Its soft, rose tint in the delicious glow 
Of her sweet form, and as the bright moon shed 

Its mellow brilliancy on her fair brow, 
And in its softening rays veiled her sweet form, 

Raptured I stood, then in a voice that spoke 
Enchantment and sweet peace unto the storm 

Within my breast, thus she the silence broke : — 

" Know'st thou this land, or hast thou ne'er before 

Explored its sweets — its ever cloudless skies ; 
Ne'er known the pleasures of yon farther shore 

Where now thou hear'st those strains of music rise 
Upon the fragrant air ? — thence have I come, 

Where yonder lights are flashing o'er the scene : 
'T is my abode and the luxurious home 

Of mirth and pleasure, — I alone its queen." 

" Goddess of love," I spoke, approached a pace, — 

" And then you know me, " quickly she replied. 
" Aye, beauteous queen — who may behold thy face, 

Nor know 't is beauty, love, personified. 
This is thy land, fair Venus ; this bright sphere 

The land of love, and yonder distant sea 
The sea of Time ; these symphonies I hear 

The joyous sounds of love's glad minstrelsy." 



146 A VISION. 

" Well pleased am I to see thee thus display 
A knowledge of this land not all possess, 

And oft possessing, blindly turn away 
To yonder isles adjacent — happiness 

Foregoing for the gain they madly weigh 

Against this wealth, which man alone can bless ; 

And for a pleasure, ever joined to pain, 

Renounce this joy which few may e'er regain. 

" Such are the isles of Pride and Avarice, 
Where pomp is life, or gold man's only aim. 

How all excelling this true happiness 

Where life is love : love that immortal flame 

Which in Elysia's sacred temple is 

The living infinite, and source supreme 

Of every joy, and thence diffused pervades 

This happy realm, filling its flower-bright glades. 

" Wealth, boasting all, no happiness can shed 
Where love is not, but is a nothingness ; 

A lifeless frame from which the soul is fled ; 
A death which hath a form of loveliness. 

Like yon pale orb so brilliant yet all dead. 

Where silence broods in each dark, bleak recess. 

Radiant it shines, all dazzling to behold, 

A sight of beauty but how deathly cold ! " 




THE DAKOTA. 



Far 'neath the crimson west, all sear and brown, 

Range the dark hills of the Dakota land, 
O'er arid plains ; yet farther, looking down 

On pine-gloomed wilds, where waters darkly grand 
Leap their rock-walls. There wide the wind-drift sand 

The ashen alkali, stretches a-plain, 
O'er which, else shadeless, sun-scorched sparsely stand 

The lonely cotton-woods ; and as a-main 
Companion ships becalmed, 'neath burning skies, 
From 'far appear, their slender heights arise. 



II. 



There, in primitive lodges of the plain. 
Dwelt the Dakota tribes confederate, 

The land possessing 'twixt the rock-forged chain 
Of mountains westward and the river great. 



148 THE DAKOTA. 

" Father of Waters " named, which through the gate 

Of Delta rolls into the southern sea. 
Foremost in war, with courage desperate, 

Of all the mightiest braves most dreaded they, 
Till in defence 'gainst them combined arose 
Tribes which else held themselves deadliest of foes ! 

III. 

For countless years, free as the winged wind, 

And scarce less fleet ; more fierce and deadlier far, 
O'er plain and through deep forests, rock-confined, 

To dauntless strength most loved, the Savage there 
Ranged chieftain of the wilds. Alike the lair 

Of mountain beast and eaglets eyried bed. 
Far up the crag, 't was but his joy to dare ; 

And oft the grizzly monster crouched in dread 
Of such a foe, till desperate driven at length 
Employed, how vainly, its else matchless strength ! 

IV. 

Swift, not less sure, the barbed arrow flew 

From his sprung bow, drawn 'neath a strength like 
that 
Which in the storm the stoutest sapling, low 

Bends earthward, in the fated life to wet 
Its lightning shaft, with feathery rudders set. 

Plucked from the wing which soaring high it brought 
Lifeless to lay low at its master's feet — 

His gladdest triumph save when true it sought 



THE DAKOTA. 149 

The hostile's breast, to yield him that e'er still 
The proudest trophy of a warrior's skill ! 

V. 

In verdured plains, walled by the mountain height, 

Beside the running waters was his home, 
"Where rose, scarce fewer than a countless flight 

Of winged-ones north-bound when the spring has 
come. 
The painted tepees of his tribe. Close some 

Stood 'neath the mount ; some by the river's sands, 
Where tethered danced in the in-eddying foam 

The swift canoes, — some staunch for war's demands ; 
Some of a grace, with odorous cedar wings. 
But fitted for love's happy wanderings. 

VI. 

And oft it was when the last beams of day 

Bathed stream and woodland in their soft rose-hue. 
As the bright moon, with love-inspiring ray, 

Floated, all beauteous, up the orient blue. 
Out from the shore glided the light canoe 

Bearing the love-led warrior, proudly plumed, 
And Indian maid, clad in the softest doe. 

Feathered and fringed, her olive breast illumed 
With rustic gems, his gift, by daring brought 
From nature's stores, o'er ways with dangers fraught. 



150 THE DAKOTA. 



VII. 

Now when the vernal tide its riches spread 

O'er the north pampas, and the bison came, 
In bands forth issuing, fleetly mounted, sped 

The younger braves to take the pasturing game. 
Armed with the bow and spear, each eye a-gleam, 

Looking impatient courage, crested high 
With eagle plumes stained to a crimson flame. 

Shouting exultant, 'gainst the evening sky 
O'er the west hills they dashed and far away, 
To strike the feeding herds ere dawn of day. 

VIII. 

On their fleet coursers of the wild astride 

At morn — kept by the single, scarce touched rein, 
Now half unhorsed — o'er-leaning low aside. 

Quick straight a-mount, alike they swept the plain, 
As now they charged the flying herd, which ta'en 

Surprised, by cunning artifice, swift fled 
A surging mass, — the blackened, trembling plain 

And rolling prairie thundering 'neath their tread, 
Till it did seem like some dark inland sea 
Wrought from beneath to tumult suddenly ! 

IX. 

Children of Nature, bounteous she supplied 

Their wants, nor wished they aught she gave them 
not, — 



THE DAKOTA. 151 

The stretching plains their country, and the wide 
Skies circling the sole bound their science taught, 

Swift retribution e'er the guilty sought, 

And justice dealt — their law the law of heaven, 

Through ages past to them tradition brought, 
By the Great Spirit to their fathers given ; 

Confirmed to them whene'er in thunders loud 

His voice they heard from 'midst the flame-reut cloud ! 




ESSAY. 



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ESSAY ON MUSIC. 



HOW DOES MUSIC ACT UPON ITS AUDITOR TO IMPART THE 
PLEASURE WHICH IT SO UNIVERSALLY AFFORDS? 



Notwithstanding the marvellous perfection to 
which Music (comparatively a modern art though it 
be) has been brought, and the very exhaustive treatises 
which have been written upon the theories of the art, 
not to speak of the wonderful mastery which has been 
obtained over its technical qualities, psychologically 
considered the subject remains almost untouched. Nor 
shall we presume to attempt to sound depths of which 
even all-venturing philosophy would thus seem to 
have fought shy. 

Our purpose in this paper will be merely to give in 
the briefest and simplest manner possible — to us, an 
explanation of the processes of the several factors in 
music as relates to their effect upon the listener ; and 
if we can succeed in throwing some light on the sub- 



156 ESSAY ON MUSIC. 

ject for the "great majority," we shall not have labored 
in vain, even though we may fail to " extend the hori- 
zon " of the more knowing few. 

Before undertaking to offer an answer to the ques- 
tion presented, we would recall to mind two facts : 
First, that this pleasure (in its aggregate) is a complex 
emotion, comprising many simple emotions, which lat- 
ter, it may be observed, would, upon examination, be 
found to consist of still other more subtile refinements 
of feeling. Thus our inquiry will be into the nature 
of those factors in music and their processes, which 
give rise to the sunple emotions ; and if we can trace 
out these we shall at least have gone far toward reach- 
ing a solution of the question presented. The second 
fact is, that one of the great distinguishing powers of 
creative minds in the arts, is that faculty which enables 
them to go beyond personal experiences, and to com- 
prehend the whole range of human emotions (of which 
we have the highest example in the art of Shakspere), 
which faculty — as need only be suggested, is one 
of the godlike attributes of genius. Thus is it that 
they are able to portray emotions and situations with 
a living truth, which are not of their own individual 
experiences. 

As all understand, among the arts music takes a 
high place as an exponent of the emotions, which, 
indeed, was its primitive, as it has ever been its chief 
mission ; its first crude forms having been no more 



ESSAY ON MUSIC. 157 

than the spontaneous utterance of human feeling ; and 
we need only remind the reader of those deeply sig- 
nificant Orphic myths to show how early was recog- 
nized music's intimate, nay, inseparable relation to 
and influence over human feeling. Let us just here 
direct attention to the identity — and consequent im- 
mediate connection, which exists between the inherent 
properties of music and those of emotion, which we 
think need only be mentioned to be at once recognized. 
These properties, both in music and emotion, we find 
to be Velocity, Intensity, Complexity, Elation, and 
Depression, which, in the respective cases, are repre- 
sented as follows : — 

IN MUSIC. 

Velocity. By the several tempi emploj^ed, as various 
as are numerous the deo-rees in the ranore included 
between the terms andante and prestissimo. 

Intensity. By the infinitely minute gradations pos- 
sible between the signs '^ppp " and ^^fff." 

Complexity. By numerous subtly interwoven quan- 
tities of harmony, worked upon the web of melody. 

Elation and Depression. By the tones and their 
intervals ranging from the lowest to the highest pitch. 

IN EMOTION. 

Velocity. By successive impulses of feeling, such as 
are experienced in situations which excite a series of 



158 ESSAY ON MUSIC. 

emotions, following each other, as will be readily 
understood, in various degrees of velocity. 

Intensity. By the various degrees in which feeling 
sways us, ranging from the simplest emotion, which 
may be all but neutral, to the condition of highest 
excitability. (Intensity, be it observed, is a prop- 
erty of each and every emotion, while velocity re- 
lates to the successive action of a chain of emotions.) 

Complexity. By a chain of emotions which succeed 
each other at a rate of velocity so great that even 
the " lightning of the mind " cannot distinguish 
where one state of feeling ceases and the next be- 
gins, the appreciable result of which is one complete 
complex sensation, or " complexity." 

Elation and Depression. By the various states 
of feeling, ranging from the lowest despondency to 
the topmost heights of exultation. 

Thus we establish corresponding planes between the 
art and emotion, which may assist us in tracing out 
the process by which the one acts upon the other. 

As the primary and consequently fundamental con- 
stituent of music, we will consider Melody first in 
order, and secondly its grand accessory and beautifier^ 
Harmony ; for, as we think is generally conceded, it is 
Melody which serves in the art as the articulate voice- 
medium of expression as relates to the emotions, be- 
coming the embodiment, so to speak, of particular 



ESSAY ON MUSIC. 159 

states of feeling, varying with the purpose of the com- 
poser. By melody we mean any rhythmic progression 
of notes, including recitative, as distinguished from the 
grouping of notes, or harmony. We think it may be 
safely premised that most of us, some time or other, 
have experienced all of what we may term the funda- 
mental human emotions, — at least have felt vibrate 
all tones of the intermediate register, — to borrow a 
term from the gamut, varying of course in intensity 
and continuity with the susceptibility of the nature, 
and modified by attendant circumstances. Of these 
emotions, rising from time to time, those with which 
music largely deals do not find their corresponding ex- 
pression, as will readily be conceived, and this is par- 
ticularly true of those tender feelings with which music 
so continually employs itself, which emotions lie voice- 
less within, awaiting the relief of expression. As it is 
true that the major portion of mankind have at least 
touched upon the fundamental range of feelings com- 
mon to humanity, so conversely is it true that all hu- 
man emotions, as already intimated, have been compre- 
hended by, and given expression to, through the 
several media of art, by the master-workers there- 
with ; and this may be said of music alone, in so far as 
it has power to express them. Thus it follows that all 
who can place themselves in sympathy with music can 
find therein expression for every emotion they may 
have experienced, inarticulate though it be as compared 



IGO ESSAY ON MUSIC. 

with the art of speech ; while, at the same time, it is 
equally the fact, that music serves as the medium of 
expression for more deep-lying refinements of feeling, 
too subtile for the symbols of speech. 

It is a very frequent occurrence to meet, in the 
course of our reading, with a thought which we at once 
recognize as one which we have ourselves before 
known, in many instances, perhaps, in an equally posi- 
tive form as that in which we thus find it preserved. 
It may be, however, that we have never given it ex- 
pression, or, if at all, we have not expressed it " as 
well," as we often remark. Some of the thoughts, 
however, thus recognized, have presented themselves 
so evanescently to our consciousness that we can 
hardly claim them as our own, their simple outline 
having merely passed before our mental perception, 
without leaving any distinct impression, just as the 
prepared plate in the camera receives an imperfect 
outline only of an object if presented to it but for an 
instant. 

Yet again we can conceive that there are still other 
thoughts in embryo which have only just reached the 
border-line of consciousness, as yet on the nether side, 
which we have not known at all, although the germ is 
there. But the moment these come in contact with 
their true expression, they become quickened into life, 
as the electric current springs forth the moment its 
complete conductor touches its source. In like manner 



\ ESSAY ON MUSIC. 161 

we conceive it to be the case with feeling. Fi'om the 
most neutral to the most actively alive, are there emo- 
tions waiting upon expression. Of these, many may 
have already found expression but their permanent, 
unfathomable nature makes repeated expression ever 
welcome to them, which indeed may be said, with more 
or less truth, of all emotion. Others have been but 
partially expressed, some never at all, while again there 
are those (if we may be allowed to anticipate their ex- 
istence) which, like the thought in embryo, have not 
as ye^ taken their positive form, but which (or, more 
precisely speaking, their conditions)^ when brought 
in contact with their conductor, become vivified, and 
produce their corresponding sensation. It occurs to us 
that those nameless emotions which many of us have 
experienced when under the influence of certain pas- 
sages in the music of such magicians in the sound art 
as Beethoven, for which we are unable to find any ex- 
pression, belong to the class last named, which, unde- 
fined though they be, afford us a pleasure of a very 
positive, albeit mysterious character. If the doctrine 
of metempsychosis were admissible, these stranger emo- 
tions might be accounted for by supposing them to be 
related to some prior condition of existence ; emotions 
to which such music as that named alone is capable of 
giving utterance, in this present existence. 

Hence, admitting the theory that the master-workers 
in the art under consideration have comprehended all 



162 ESSAY ON MUSIC. 

human feelings — indeed, in the immediately preceding 
proposition we have gone farther and attributed to the 
greater Seers in the art a comprehension of conditions 
even beyond this present sphere of existence, — and 
created therefore their true conductor (^. e.. form of 
expression), it follows that when we place ourselves 
under the influence of such media, in the hands of the 
interpreter, the latent, or active, though unexpressed, 
feeling responds thereto, affording that pleasurable re- 
lief which the expression of unuttered feeling always 
gives. 

Let us apply our premises. In listening to a musical 
composition we recognize it as dealing with some given 
sentiment. Not the exact shade of that sentiment, 
but the fundamental feeling, and therefore one which, 
accepting the hypothesis submitted, each auditor has 
already experienced, hence recognizes. Thus identified, 
our emotional nature responds thereto, in various de- 
grees in each individual, as already pointed out, as such 
of their several experiences, as harmonize with such 
sentiment, vary (for as the composer more or less 
colors the emotion interpreted with his own individu- 
ality, so does each auditor receive such interpretation 
in its application to his own particular experience), and 
more or less intense as the emotional nature prevails. 
Furthermore, the effect will of course be in proportion 
as the composer possessed a nature capable of feeling, 
and power to truthfully interpret through his art the 



ESSAY ON MUSIC. 163 

given emotion. Each thus recognizing in the given 
melody the expression of a feeling which they have 
themselves known (subject to the modifications men- 
tioned), and which has never found any or but partial 
expression, the emotional being which, so to speak, is 
bearing the burden of the unrelieved feeling, gladly 
welcomes and rests itself upon that expression, mak- 
ing it its own, and thus experiencing a sense of relief 
and coutentedness, the ultimate of which we call 
" pleasure." This effect, it is to be understood, is not, 
however, a permanent, but merely a present delight, 
experienced only so long as we remain under the in- 
fluence of music, unless perhaps it may be said to con- 
tinue immediately after the divine voice has ceased, for 
such brief time as memory may dwell thereupon. We 
mean that music is not a continuing indwelling source 
of pleasure to us, as is, for instance, any satisfying con- 
sciousness of a permanent possession, ever yielding 
delight. True, it is now and ever ours, and now and 
ever a source of enjoyment to us ; but it only contri- 
butes to our happiness ivhen we resort to it, and sur- 
render ourselves to its influence. Its dwelling-place is 
in the unknown spheres, whereto soaring Genius alone 
is able to attain ; and Genius alone it is which has 
brought thence to earth, even as did Prometheus the 
sacred fire from Heaven, its infinite riches and divine 
beauty for the delectation and exaltation of mankind. 
Thus, while it is ever ready to afford us delight, it is 



164 ESSAY ON MUSIC. 

merely a present satisfaction ; but at the same time 
one which may be enjoyed as frequently as we will, 
because it ministers to the happiness of feelings which 
never cease to pulsate in the human heart, and to which 
utterance is ever welcome. 

There is another class of emotions of which music 
serves as an exponent, by a somewhat different process 
which may be termed objective, as those we have been 
considering are subjective. We mean those emotions 
which are more immediately brought into play by 
music when it is employed as a descriptive medium. 
While, as has already been said, all mankind have ex- 
perienced, in various degrees, the fundamental feelings 
of our human nature, it is true that nearly all have 
known something of the more immediately and pro- 
nouncedly exalting emotions. Such, for instance, as 
those of the sublime, the heroic, and the like ; and it 
is more eminently true of these (especially in this 
materialistic age) that they but seldom find any ex- 
pression, except what may be termed the sympathetic 
expression, afforded when we come under the influence 
of art; though in hiojher natures it is of course true, 
that the sublime emotions find their deepest expe- 
riences in contemplating the glory and mystery of the 
natural world. Thus such music as represents mar- 
tial cadences, the pageantry or assault of arms, or (as 
relates to the more exclusively sublime) those grand 
choral-form progressions ; those magnificent passages 



ESSAY ON MUSIC. 165 

which we at once recognize, as by intuition, as the 
utterance of emotions which can only pertain to the 
most exalted planes of feeling, — to which the highest 
organisms alone can attain, which passages awaken 
that profounder sentiment which springs worshipfuUy 
from the suggestion or presentation (as far as may 
be) in music, of divine presences ; such forms, we say, 
call up and afford an expression to the sublimer emo- 
tions which else wise for the most part they know not ; 
and the man or woman with but little, if any, of the 
religious or heroic in their natures are by this agency 
stirred to a depth which no other influence could 
ever reach. Under the influence of the class of music 
named, which excites the heroic sentiment, we "feel 
that pleasure which a quickening of the manlier, nobler 
impulses of courage, daring, and the like affords ; 
while in the latter case, where the religious sentiment 
is brought into action, we are subdued into a state of 
serene submissiveness, to which we surrender ourselves 
with feelings of composeful happiness. 

Moreover, be it remembered that this pleasure is at 
the same time being largely contributed to by the 
"association process," without which, indeed, the ef- 
fect would be but indifferently accomplished. Indiffer- 
ently, we say, for we believe that melody possesses 
an intrmsic power to express feeling, independently 
of the association principle. This latter, however, 
probably contributes most largely to the pleasure ex- 



166 ESSAY ON MUSIC. 

perienced, busying itself gathering about such pleasur- 
able feeling as a given theme or passage may awaken, 
all experiences in consonance therewith, which add 
their colorijig to the dominant emotion. Herein then 
seems to lie the primary source of pleasure derived 
from music ; but over and beyond the pleasure which 
is thus drawn from what may be termed the soul of 
music, there is a supplementary pleasure afforded by 
the external forms of melody. This clearly arises 
from the perception in the numerous rhythmic designs 
and varying cadences of the beauty of symmetry, pro- 
portion, and the like, while at the same time, the chosen 
theme may present to the consciousness some of the 
multitudinous vocal rhythms of the natural world. It 
may be that grace of motion witnessed in the rocking 
wavelets as they murmur of repose; or the happy 
warble of woodland songsters; the glad-voiced babble 
of the stream; the musical laughter of falling water, 
or, to select some of the more sublime manifestations 
of Nature, the various phenomena of the storm. And 
here again is the " association process " found at work, 
calling up the charmful scenes where such delightful 
presences abound, thus giving rise to other simple emo- 
tions, each contributing its pleasurable sensation, the 
aggregate of all being the "complex," or complete 
pleasure. 

Moreover, the external forms of melody delight us 
by their elaborations and embellishments of delicate 



ESSAY ON MUSIC. 167 

arabesques, affording us a pleasure very similar to, if 
indeed, not identical with, that experienced in contem- 
plating the graceful and fantastic designs of line and 
curve, wrought into infinite forms of beauty in a sister 
art. 

We have thus sought to show that melody is the 
prime source of that pleasure which music affords, not, 
however, wishing to be understood that mere melody, 
skeletonized, could equally afford us this pleasure, but 
that as presented in musical composition it is the prin- 
cipal factor which produces the pleasurable emotion 
experienced. 

First, as being the embodied expression, ever ready 
to be employed, of all feelings which humanity recog- 
nizes as its own, that is, the soul of it ; and secondly, 
by its external beauty of form and embellishment. 

We shall now very briefly state our views as to the 
part taken in music, as relates to its effect upon the 
auditor, by Harmony, which is understood to be the 
combination of several notes bearing relative consistent 
proportions to a fundamental tone. Of course the ef- 
fect of music is determined by the truthfulness and 
power with which it is interpreted by the 2)erformer. 
The general term " expression " so universally em- 
ployed to specify the manner of rendering musical 
compositions, may be said to include the other kindred 
terms, accentuation, coloring, and the like. The first 
of these we find applied to the emphasis given to cer- 



168 ESSAY ON MUSIC. 

tain notes or phrases, while by the second is understood 
the ever varying intensity ( which we know as the 
"light and shade "of music) under the treatment of 
the interpreter, of the aggregate outflow of sound in 
its entirety, as well as in its several constituent tones. 

We refer to these terms, as we desire that the effect 
understood by the last named, coloring, should be had in 
mind in noticing the effects of harmony upon the list- 
ener. 

The meed of pleasure which harmony contributes to 
the aggregate derived from music clearly results from 
the mental perception of the rich vestments, so to 
speak, woven from its " concord of sweet sounds," in 
which it robes its subject. As presented to the imagi- 
nation, its innumerable combinations of beauty delight 
us now by their embroider-like richness, following 
which we are led along, amid ingeniously developed 
progressions, from one enchanting surprise to another, 
here and there to linger in some fairy-like dell of 
sound, calling up before the fancy some flower-bright 
glade, bathed in the rose-haze of summer ; now daz- 
zling us by their regal splendor, scintillating with rich 
decoration as might the brilliant caparisons of a royal 
pageant glistening in the sunlight, calling up the more 
pleasurable phases of wonder and admiration ; or again 
by their closely interwoven, yet in point of continu- 
ance, broadly extended, beauty, through which run the 
golden threads of melody, suggesting the velvety rich- 



ESSAY ON MUSIC. 169 

11 ess of royal tapestries, into which are woven uniquely 
delicate or boldly figured designs, giving rise to other 
modified yet perhaps not less pleasing phases of the 
emotions named, and so forth. All these harmonic 
variations, infinite in number, being consistently pro- 
portioned and combined, now in powerful contrasts, or 
again in the most delicate interfusions of sound, their 
effect upon the sensibilities is, we conceive, all but 
identical with that experienced in contemplating perfect 
combinations, gradations, and interblendings of colors 
especially if in action as in a sunset, particularly when 
viewed across a rocking expanse of waters, upon which 
the rich masses of color are cradled into innumerable 
combinations of beauty and infinite variations of irides- 
cent glory. 

To recapitulate: we have sought to show that the 
pleasure derived from music is chiefly prodced by its 
principal. Melody. 

1. As a medium of utterance to human feeling, the 
expression of which being by the very necessities of 
our organisms one of the greatest sources of happiness 
to mankind, ministering on the one hand in so gentle, 
sweet-voiced, and effective a manner to subdue, soothe, 
or relieve the most tender, most demandful of our 
emotions, and on the other hand to call into action 
and give exercise to the more vigorous impulses. 

2. By the countless designs of beauty presented in 
its/orms, adorned by the rich embellishments employed. 

11 



170 



ESSAY ON MUSIC. 



3. By calling into action the " association process " 
which contributes largely to the total of pleasure ex- 
perienced ; and finally, that as the great auxiliary of 
melody, harmony contributes largely to increase this 
pleasure, in the manner pointed out. 




e^-^^%r. 



